


Chronicles of the Merchant: Book 1

by MonPetitTresor



Series: Immortal Tony [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ancient History, Angst and Feels, BAMF Tony Stark, Dubious Consent, Four Horsemen, Hand-wavey Science, Healing, Hurt Tony, Immortal Tony Stark, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Knife Play, M/M, Magic, Multi, New Friends, Original Characters - Freeform, Rape, Rough Sex, Tami - Freeform, Tavi - Freeform, This sounds worse than it is I think, Time Travel, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Triggers galore here people, Violence, and that's more dub-con, cautious as you read, dark themes, not explicitly described, one sex scene, slight stockholm syndrome, the rape is more talked about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: Book 1: The BeginningWhen Tony went through the wormhole, it was with the knowledge that this was a one-way trip. There'd be no coming back from it. The aliens had to be stopped, and the Avengers had to close the portal. Tony knew that, and he accepted it. When he closed his eyes for that last time in the vast darkness of space, he expected it to be the end.He never expected to open them again, or to find himself alone - minus the suit and the arc reactor - lying in the sand in the middle of some desert. Where the hell was he?Before he gets the chance to start to find answers, he's found by a group of people who don't have his best interests at heart.Forced to be their captive, the only thing Tony do is try to survive until he finds a way to get free. No matter what it takes. Even if it means befriending a man who he finds himself hating a whole lot less than he should.(I've been told that no knowledge of Highlander, show or movies, is needed to read this. I do my best to explain it all, and so far it seems to work *grin*)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhinyWingedWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhinyWingedWinchester/gifts).



> This story gets dark sometimes, and occasionally graphic. There is violence, rape, dub-con, and all those other terrible things that come when someone becomes a slave to another. This is also only the first part in what's proving to look like a very long series.
> 
> It originally had a different start, but a dear friend came along and started poking me, and then 47 pages later, here were are. So, this is for you, my little Minion!
> 
> Also - a quick summary of some important "Highlander" information for people is in the bottom notes if you want to read that, or skip it if you don't need it

_I don’t even know how to begin this. I’m sitting here staring down at what passes for paper here, and I can’t seem to find the words to make this all make sense. One day, I hope to transcribe this. To write it better and clearer on something a whole lot more decent. I couldn’t wait for that to happen, though. Not when so much of it is something I already feel like I might forget._

_This would be so much easier if I had a computer._

_A computer. Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I’ve touched a computer. Who would’ve ever pictured that? Being without my technology is like missing a leg, or a foot at least. I never would’ve thought I could exist without my technology. Yet somehow, I’ve managed to do it for the past three hundred years._

_I’m jumping ahead of myself. Not unusual, to anyone who knows me. Not that I think anyone’s ever going to read this or believe it if they did. This isn’t really for you, whoever you are. This is more for me. I need someplace to put all this down that’s not just my own head. I need to write it out before time starts to make the memories fade, as I’m kind of terrified they’re going to do. I don’t want to forget this. Despite the bad that’s happened, despite everything, I don’t want to forget a moment of this. All these moments have made up who I am. They’ve made me who I am today. And they’ll continue to make the person I’m going to become in the future._

_My story’s a long one, and not always pretty. But it’s my story. The story of my death, and my rebirth, and every death since then. I’ve died countless times throughout this, and I have a feeling I’ll die countless more. I’ve lived so many different lives. I’ve been a pauper, a prince, a slave, a soldier, a monk (believe it or not) and a whore._

_But, we’ll get to all that. For now, let’s start at the beginning. Or, in some ways, the end. Let me take you to the moment where my whole life changed. Where I died and was born again, and the terrifying days that followed after. Let me tell you about a world you might not even believe exists, depending on who you are and when this is read. A world where technology is getting stronger, and people with powers walk the earth, and a small rag-tag group of idiots with mental health issues get together and decide to call themselves the Avengers…_

* * *

This was not how he’d expected his life to end.

That was one of the main thoughts Tony Stark had as he flew through the air, a giant nuke pressed against his back and only one place for him to put it.

All the ways he’d pictured his life ending over the years, all the shit he’d been through and the hell he’d put his body through, he could honestly say that this idea hadn’t ever even occurred to him. He’d never imagined he’d be sending himself on a one-way trip through a wormhole, ready to blow the hell out of some alien bad guys who’d just tried to take over the planet. Then again, he never would’ve imagined that he himself would be a part of the team of actual freaking _superheroes_ who’d assembled to try and stop them.

Most of the past few days seemed like some weird sort of dream. Getting the reports from Agent, seeing the truth of an actual alien on earth – even if the alien believed he was a Norse god – seeing _Captain-freaking-America_ , and then the invasion. Aliens, pouring from the sky, people racing through the streets screaming, and somehow this small group of people had come together to fight against this. _The Avengers_.  A group of idiots made up of a man out of his time, two spies, the Norse god of thunder, and an awesome scientist who just happened to turn into a giant green rage monster.

And then there was Tony. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, ex-Merchant of Death, and Iron Man.

The last title didn’t exactly make up for any of those others. Or any of the ones Tony hadn’t bothered listing. But…it was his attempt at it. His chance to _try_.

Try and be good. Try and be normal. Try and pretend like there wasn’t a monster that lived inside of him, one that set him apart from the others.

_“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that away, what are you?”_

The answer he’d given was glib, rolling off his tongue with ease. But inside? Inside, Tony knew better. Inside, he was laughing, because even the famous Captain America had seen it. He knew that Tony didn’t belong with them.

_“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play. To lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”_

A low, aching laugh bubbled up Tony’s throat. He adjusted his thrusters, angling himself just right to push the nuke up, up, right where he needed it to go. There was no _cutting the wire_ in this scenario. No getting out of this. _Aren’t you proud_? he wanted to ask Steve. The man that Tony grew up hearing about, the one he’d looked up to for such a long time – the one he’d disappointed within moments of actually meeting him. _I’m making the damn sacrifice play, just like you talked about. Aren’t you proud, Steve? Are you proud, Howard?_

_“You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”_

Those words echoed with Tony as he reached the portal. They stayed with him, playing over and over in his mind as he watched the infinite reaches of space. There were ships there, so many ships – a whole army, waiting to come.

And as Tony fell, he watched as the nuke hit and sent them all blasting to hell.

He fell back and let go, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. That smile was still there as he slipped into unconsciousness, and as the portal slowly began to close.

As it closed around him, the world shifted and changed, and Tony Stark knew no more.

* * *

Life returned to Tony’s lungs with a sharp, painful tear. Like thousands of little knives digging their way through every single inch of him. He came awake with pain in his lungs, sand against his skin, and heat burning through every inch of him, and the panic kicked through his mind before he had any chance even to begin to try and think.

 _No, no, I got out! I got out!_ Those words echoed through Tony’s mind, screaming at him. He shoved himself against the burning sand and tried to move, to force his aching body to do something other than lie there and cough. In his ears was the sound of voices calling to him. Tony swore he could feel phantom hands on his body, pulling him this way and that, forcing him up onto his knees while a gun pressed against his head.

 _Just a dream_ , he told himself. _This is just a dream. I’m not back there. I got out. I got out!_ Over and over Tony tried to repeat to himself. It was just…the sand felt so goddamn _real_!

Tony tried to summon his voice, wanting to call out to JARVIS. Why wasn’t JARVIS saying anything? He always knew when Tony was having a nightmare.

Slowly, achingly, Tony planted his hands down in the sand – no, not sand, it’s not real! – and he sucked in breath after breath until _finally,_ he felt his lungs start to settle. Then, and only then, did he open his eyes. A bright light blinded him, forcing him to blink a few times before he dared try to open them again. When he did, what he found had him going still.

Sand.

He was actually surrounded by sand. Oh, God, it wasn’t a dream. He was in the desert. But how…?

It came back to him, then, in a rush that stole away the breath he’d just regained.

The alien attack, the Avengers, fighting to keep the city safe, and then the nuke. The nuke that some asshole had launched at their city. And then… the giant wormhole in the sky. Tony shuddered at the memory of all that open space, full of ships ready to destroy their planet. More than that, he remembered the faint hint of darkness he’d felt at the corners of his mind, the infinite space that he’d passed through between earth and actual space, and the _things_ he’d sensed in there.

Panic came back even stronger than before. Tony stared around him with a growing sense of horror. Where was he? Was he even still on earth? The wormhole might have taken him to space – there was no telling where it sent him back to. Could it have sent him further out? Another planet, maybe? Or was he just somewhere else on earth?

Tony brought his hand up to his chest as the panic grew. It was a self-soothing gesture he’d developed after Afghanistan. A silent reminder that, though things might be bad, they weren’t as bad as they could be. He was still safe, and alive, and the reactor was still there.

Only… _it wasn’t._

With frantic hands, Tony was scrambling at his shirt. He looked down, realizing a few things at once. His arc reactor was gone – only the old ring of scars there to show it’d ever even been there – and so was his suit.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. Tony was hyperventilating; he knew he was, and yet he couldn’t stop it. The world seemed to be narrowing down around him as a roaring sensation filled his ears. There was no way Tony could hold back the panic any longer. Not with all this. Curling his fingers tight into the sand, the engineer bent himself forward, wheezing and shaking as his mind and body fought a war against an old invader, one that never seemed to want to leave him alone.

There was no help this time. No JARVIS to talk him through the fear and the pain. Tony was on his own in this strange place. All he could do was try to breathe. To focus on the press of his fingers in the sand and the heat of the sun on his back. He fought with every ounce of strength he had to try and yank himself back under control.

He had no idea how much time passed before he was finally able to breathe again. Sweat dripped down his face and fell in small droplets down to the sand. It wasn’t all from the heat, he knew. His body felt like he’d run for miles and miles.

Lying here in the middle of some desert panicking wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It’d do him no good at all. What Tony needed to do was get up off his ass, quit whining, and figure out what the hell was going on or where he even was. Once he did that, he could build a plan from there. But to do all of that, he had to _get up_.

Determination filled Tony. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself up to his feet. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in a shitty situation. He highly doubted it was going to be his last. Every time he’d come up against bad things in the past, he’d managed to push aside the fear to deal with later and focus instead on the problem at hand. That was how he knew how to survive. That was the skill he’d learned at his father’s knee. Focus on what you could fix at the moment. Panic was a weakness, and he couldn’t afford weakness. Not when there were things to do or a chance of people seeing.

Once Tony was back home, _then_ he could panic all he wanted. He could hide out in his penthouse and freak out while JARVIS talked to him, and Dum-E came up and tried to tuck blankets around him. Maybe U would even be up there making him something to drink. Sometimes JARVIS liked to let her up to help with that.

Tony held on to that image – the thought of his family, his kids – and let it give him the strength he needed to rise to his feet finally. It helped him up and held him together as he looked all around him at miles and miles of sand.

With that determination keeping him upright, he turned himself, picked a direction, and began to walk.

* * *

_I had no idea what I was up against. No idea yet about what I was, or what was waiting for me. Hell, I didn’t even know where I was, let alone when. It took me a while to learn it, too. Those early days in the desert weren’t easy. I won’t write them all out. There’s no point to it._

_It’s enough to say – I died three separate times on my walk through the desert. At the time, I thought for sure I just passed out. It wouldn’t be until later that I’d think of it as anything different. Then, I just assumed that I was unconscious. But I did notice that, no matter how long I went without food or water, somehow I always managed to get back up. To keep on going._

_Eventually, during one of the times I’d actually passed out, so close to death, I was found. But it wasn’t some glorious savior that found me. Not the way you’re thinking of. There was no knight in shining armor to come in and rescue me. Just a monster on a pale horse…_

* * *

The first thing that Tony noticed when he woke this time was that it was finally cool. Blessedly, achingly _cool._ Not only that, but he was lying on something soft – something that wasn’t sand.

His lungs were aching again, there was a strange buzzing in his head, and his heart was pounding, but he was out of the damn sun. Someone had found him!

On the heels of that thought came a few more realizations – and none of them were pleasant. But the biggest one of all was the realization that _his hands were bound_. Whoever had found him, they’d tied his hands together behind his back with what felt like a strip of leather? Tony knew the feel of leather. What self-respecting playboy hadn’t tried a little tie-me-up-tie-me-down play once or twice? He knew what leather felt like on his wrists, though it usually wasn’t this soft or supple.

He also knew the feeling of waking up somewhere strange with his wrists bound together. He’d been through that often enough in his life to have his reactions ingrained into him. It was instinct for Tony to lay there and pretend that he was still asleep. Still unconscious. It gave him time to assess as much of his surroundings as humanly possible.

There was another person nearby. He could hear their breathing, slow and steady. No one else, though. Good. That meant just one person here. Tony could handle one person But, that didn’t mean there weren’t others nearby, or others watching.

The place they were in didn’t sound like some closed off room. Despite it being cooler than before, there was still a sense of heat that made it clear they were still in the desert. Only the faint breeze made it bearable.

Careful testing of his body proved that nothing felt damaged or broken. Just sore and tired, likely from all the time out in the desert, and parched. He needed some water – bad.

The sound of low laughter interrupted Tony’s careful musings. Then someone spoke, and their voice was like warm honey, with a hint of a rasp to the edges of it. It would’ve made Tony shiver for entirely different reasons under better circumstances. As it was, all he could hear was the coldness of it. The edge of dark humor that told him this wasn’t someone to be messed with.

Tony had been kidnapped one too many times _not_ to recognize the danger in that sound.

Apparently, whatever was amusing his captor faded pretty quickly, or Tony didn’t respond right, because the next thing Tony knew the person was right there and a hand fisted tightly in his hair. Tony’s eyes snapped open at the shock of pain as his head was yanked up and back.

The room was mostly dark, wherever he was, but he couldn’t see anything of it. All he could see was the face right in front of his. Greenish gold eyes were inches from his own, and what he could see of the rest of the man’s face – and it was clearly a man – was a hint of a pointed nose, sharp cheekbones, and a furious looking snarl. The man spoke again in that same language, whatever the hell it was, only he sounded pissed off this time.

 _Well, no more playing dead_. Tony allowed himself a small hiss at the pain in his hair, and then he did the one thing he was good at – he opened his mouth when he probably should’ve kept it shut. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re saying, asshole, and I’m sure it’s important and all. You want something from me, try speaking in English.”

To Tony’s surprise, he wasn’t met with more words. Instead, he was met with a backhand so quick and sharp he never saw it coming. There was no chance for him to try and roll with it or turn away from it. The hand in his hair prevented him from going far, too, meaning he felt the full force of it against his face. Hard enough that he was damn lucky his cheekbone didn’t crack.

The guy hissed out one word at Tony, and even though it was in that same mystery language, Tony was pretty sure he got the message loud and clear. _Quiet!_

Normally, Tony would tell someone where exactly they could stick that kind of order. He wasn’t anyone’s bitch no matter what the situation was. But there was something in those eyes… instincts told Tony that he needed to play this one carefully. This guy wasn’t looking at Tony like he was some sort of prize, something that he’d get something out of, or as an enemy he was seeking revenge on. No, he looked at Tony like he was… well, like he was a _thing_.

The face drew back a little from his. Instead of scowling, the man was now smirking at him. He arched one dark eyebrow and spoke again, a questioning note in his voice this time. When Tony didn’t say anything, the guy laughed again. The hand in Tony’s hair let go. He was caught off guard when it moved to pat roughly at his cheek. Like… like a dog that had just performed well.

That thought made Tony be the one who was now scowling. He wasn’t anyone’s _dog_. Whatever this bastard wanted out of him, he was going to find out damn quick that no one got away with trying to kidnap Tony Stark.

His scowl only made the man laugh again. The man sat back on his haunches, giving Tony his first clear look at him, and at the room around him.

Tony’s captor looked like he’d be tall if he straightened himself up. He also looked slender, though Tony already knew that didn’t mean anything. The lazy blow to the face had proved that. He wore white robes, with a shawl portion tossed over the front of him, and long, dark hair hung loosely around his face in clear need of a wash. Half of his pale face was painted blue, of all goddamn things. Just who the hell was this guy??

Whoever he was, he sat there and watched Tony with clear amusement, letting him take in everything about him and the place he was in.

They were in what looked to be a tent. It was bigger than Tony had expected, and his eyes took note of the way it was made, the slants here and there, and the mesh with rolled up panels to one side that were allowing a slight breeze to blow through. The tent came to a point above them.

It wasn’t huge, but it was large. Enough to hold a clear sleeping area made of blankets and what looked like furs, plus space for bags and other things. Tony stared at it all and felt so out of his depth. The idea that he was on an alien planet was getting more and more likely. Except for the fact that his captor looked perfectly human. Judging by the language sound, Tony was guessing maybe Arabic heritage? Maybe the wormhole had spat him out in the middle of the desert somewhere, and these people had just happened to stumble across him.

That didn’t explain why the guy didn’t seem to know him, though …

When Tony brought his eyes back to the guy, he was still squatting there, one arm resting casually on his thighs while his other hand rested on something at his waist. _A sword_ , Tony’s brain supplied dully. _Holy fuck, this guy is wearing a sword. Where the hell did I end up?!_

As if reading that on his face, the guy laughed again. He said something, this time in a different language, another one that Tony didn’t understand. When Tony gave no response or any sign of even understanding, the guy actually rolled his eyes. Next, he tried something that sounded like Gaelic, only with a thicker accent. Still, it wasn’t enough for Tony to understand, and his captor seemed to get that. The guy lifted a hand and tapped his chest as he said one word in that liquid language he’d started out with. “Meth-os.”

It took a couple repetitions for Tony to catch on. Once he realized what the other was doing, he felt a small spurt of what might’ve been _hope_. “Methos?”

The guy – Methos – grinned. He tilted his hand towards Tony and arched an eyebrow again.

Oh. That was pretty easy to figure out, too. Only, Tony debated on what answer to give for a moment. If he gave the name Tony, and this really was earth, this guy might realize who he had and suddenly have a whole lot of different plans. Tony ran a few things back and forth before deciding to stick to his name – at least part of it.

He couldn’t touch his chest the way that Methos had, so he settled for lifting his chin with as much pride as he could muster. “Athon…” his clear, firm voice was cut off by a heavy cough ripping its way through him. The lack of water he’d had meant that his throat was as dry as the desert he’d just come in from.

Surprise filled Tony when he found his head being yanked back. He tried to struggle, to get away, right up until he felt water hit his face. In that instant, his brain was torn between panic and the unbearable need to drink. There was a brief debate before need overruled fear. Tony abandoned all pride and opened his mouth to catch as much as humanly possible. He didn’t care if it splashed over him; all he cared about was getting as much in his parched throat as he could.

All too soon the water stopped, and Tony was left trying to lick drops of it off his lips. He looked up to find that Methos had moved back to where he’d been squatting before. This time, there was something else on his face. A look that Tony wanted to call contemplative. He was looking at Tony, and it was clear he was thinking hard about something. Whatever it was, it had Tony wanting to shiver when those eyes raked over him.

Abruptly, Methos pushed up to his feet and spun towards the tent door, calling out as he went.

Tony barely had any time to wonder what the hell was going on before the tent flap opened and a giant bear of a man came walking in. He was taller than Methos, definitely _wider_ , with a round face and a look of almost childlike joy as he gazed over at Tony in response to whatever it was that Methos was saying. When he laughed, it shook through him and echoed inside the tent.

After saying something to his friend, Methos calmly moved back to Tony, grabbing his hair and using it to pull him, scrambling, up to his feet. He bent in close, growling something right up against the shell of Tony’s ear, making the engineer shudder. Like this, standing next to Methos, it was easy to take note of the height difference between them. Methos might be skinnier, but he was taller, and he had a whole lot of muscle. Enough to make it seem like child’s play to drag Tony to his feet one-handed and thrust him towards the other guy.

Big, meaty hands caught Tony, who immediately began to struggle. Like hell if he was just going to let them pass him around like some sort of party favor! Tony had no idea who these people were or what they wanted from him – but he damn well knew it wasn’t something good.

Even with his hands still tied behind his back, Tony put up a good struggle. It was useless, though, and they all knew it.

This time, he saw the blow coming, though there wasn’t time to stop it. One of those big hands struck him hard enough that Tony found himself landing back on the floor once more. His ears were ringing, and he swore there’d been a pop somewhere on his face. Though, to his surprise, the pain was already fading by the time a hand once more fisted in Tony’s hair. This one was larger enough that Tony knew it wasn’t Methos. Whoever this asshole was, he really was built like a fucking bear, and Tony dubbed him as such in his mind, at least until he learned a name.

There was no chance for Tony to do anything. Bear tightened his grip against any of Tony’s struggles and then used that hold to drag him, twitching and crying out, out of the tent.

Scrambling madly to try and get his legs under him – anything to ease the grip in his short hair – Tony only barely got a glimpse of the camp they were in. There were three other tents aside from the one he’d just come out of, some horses, and a firepit in the middle of it all. At the firepit stood two men who were watching and laughing, offering no help at all to Tony. They called out to Bear, who called back with a laugh of his own, and then Tony was being pulled through the sand into a different tent.

The hand holding him proceeded to throw Tony forward. He landed on a pile of blankets and furs a bit larger than the one he’d just been on.

Shock and pain had dulled Tony’s mind just a little; enough that he didn’t notice his captor coming towards him until it was almost too late. Bear was already shedding his robes and was just about on him when Tony realized what was happening. In an instant, the engineer felt his body flooded with adrenaline. _No_!

Most people looked at Tony and underestimated him and what he was capable of. They saw a genius rich boy and assumed it meant he didn’t know how to fight. That he had bodyguards to do that for him. Tony was fine with letting them think that. They didn’t need to know just how hard Rhodey had drilled Tony until he was sure his friend would finally be able to fight back against anyone that tried to take him on. As he got older, Tony had continued those lessons with private instructors who had improved on that skill.

At that moment Tony took every ounce of that skill and put it to use. He waited for Bear to get close and then pushed with his bound hands on the bed and surged up, slamming the top of his head right into the bottom of Bear’s nose.

The roar of pain he got was satisfying. Tony followed the move up by bringing his knee up and slamming it right into Bear’s groin and then kicking out with his other leg.

The combination of blows was enough to get the bastard off of him. Though Tony knew his chances of actual escape were slim, like hell if he was going to stay in this tent and let that bastard do what he’d clearly been planning on doing. With the adrenaline pumping through his system, Tony was on his feet and racing for the tent flap.

He didn’t make it far.

Just outside the tent, Tony had to jerk to a stop when he found himself rushing straight into the point of a sword.

Methos stood there with his sword extended. His expression was cold in a way that had Tony wanting to take a full step back. A crazy part of Tony’s mind pointed out that at least he knew what Bear wanted from him. This guy… this guy looked like he’d have no problem cutting Tony to bits and inspecting each individual piece as he did.

Speaking of Bear – he was there suddenly, grabbing hold of Tony from behind to pull him into a tight mockery of a hug, and that touch was enough to remind Tony of why he was fighting. He struggled against the other’s hold, kicking and bucking and twisting with everything he had, every trick he knew. None of it seemed to do a damn thing.

The others all said something over him, the voices of the other two clearly joining in, and then Bear was shouting back and tugging Tony inside once more.

What came next was something Tony never could’ve prepared himself for. It was a pain, unlike anything he’d known before. Bear didn’t waste any time in flinging Tony down to the ground and growling furiously at him. The first blow caught Tony’s face, shoving him down into the dirt, and the next few were all over the place. There was no way for Tony to defend himself. No chance for him to do anything except curl up and try to protect his vital organs. Blow after blow lashed all over him. Fists, feet, and something else, something hard and sharp that drove the cries past his lips that he was fighting so hard to keep inside.

Just when he thought he was going to die from the beating, that Bear was going to underestimate his own strength and actually kill Tony – there were plenty of broken bones, Tony could feel them – it all stopped.

Later, Tony would wish Bear _had_ killed him.

In the dark of the tent, on a bed made of furs, Tony gasped and sobbed and pleaded with whatever God was out there.

If any heard him, he had no doubt they were laughing.

* * *

_That was my introduction to my new place in life. That night, I learned what I was to these men, and it was a lesson they reinforced every single night after that. Bear, whose name I learned later was Silas, was actually by far the gentlest of them all. The only times he ever got that violent was if he was provoked. Beyond that, it was almost like he cared. His pleasure was his, of course, and he’d damn well take it if he wanted it, but he didn’t go out of his way to hurt me. Not the way that the other two men did._

_Caspian and Kronos._

_It took only a few days in camp to realize that these were the two I needed to worry about the most. Methos avoided me as if I wasn’t there. He didn’t even bring me to his tent at night, or during the day, or any other time. Though, he liked to send me to fetch things. But Caspian and Kronos? They seemed to take great joy in trying to find ways to break me. Under their hands, I learned a capacity for pain I hadn’t realize I had._

_I also learned about the changes to my body._

_Wounds I’d gained under their hands were healed within moments. The worse it was, the longer it took, but each and every injury healed. That only seemed to provoke them to greater heights._

_They seemed to possess the same healing as I did, too. What’s more, there was something about them – about us. I found I could sense them when they got close to me. A weird sensation kind of like buzzing in my head. Maybe vibrating. I’ve never quite figured out how to describe it. Either way, I could feel them when they got close. That little skill saved my life more than a few times. It also saved me a few bruises._

_I had no idea where I was, or if I was even on Earth anymore, but I quickly learned one thing. My life was pain. How bad of pain depended entirely on my behavior and on the whims of the four men who seemed to think me nothing more than a dog to entertain them, or a body to warm their beds._

_Once, I’d thought Afghanistan was hell. I’d thought the torture I underwent there was worse than anything else I’d known._

_How wrong I was._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm not a fan of the Highlander movies, but the TV show? I love that show. I LOVE IT. I watch it on Hulu a lot while writing this. Here's a few bits from their wikia to help explain things.
> 
> Immortals are beings that can supposedly live forever, never aging, never completely dying, unless someone takes their heads. Immortal physiology is different from normal human physiology because of the Quickening, which might be a very powerful electromagnetic field. Immortals suffer and die from wounds exactly the same way as ordinary humans do, however, they restore to a healthy state after dying. The only way to permanently kill them is decapitation.
> 
> With each head an Immortal takes, there's a Quickening - When an Immortal is beheaded, there is a powerful energy released from their body which is called a Quickening. Actor, Adrian Paul, explains, "The Quickening is the receiving of all the power and knowledge another immortal has obtained throughout his/her life. It is like the receiving of a sacrament... or a massive orgasm." The producers describe it so: "The power of the Quickening is the equivalent to a major electrical storm hitting -- windows explode, lights short circuit, it is almost as if the victorious Immortal is in the center of a lightning storm."
> 
> Immortals kill one another like this as a part of 'The Game'. "There can be only one" is the belief and motto among the immortals in the original Highlander film, its sequels and spin-offs. It implies that all immortals must fight and kill one another until only one remains standing; this "one" shall receive The Prize.
> 
> I know that's a lot of info, but you'll get more about it in the next story when *Tony* learns about it :)


	2. Chapter 2

_When I was younger, I used to believe that the first day of torture was the worst. That initial feeling of helplessness; the realization that you’ve been taken, and you’re in the hands of people who now have the power to do whatever they want to you. I believed that was the worst moment. If I could make it through that, I could make it through the rest._

_As I got older, I realized just how wrong I was. It wasn’t the first night, or the second, or even the third. No, for me it became anywhere between the 4 th and the 7th. Somewhere in that range was the moment where I hit my lowest. The point where I realized that no one was going to come for me and that I was on my own._

_That happened on day five of my stay in the Horsemen camp. And it was once again Methos who was at the center of it. It was Methos that I first woke up to, and he was the one to show me more. To show me what exactly I was, and what it meant for my future. I don’t know if he intended for it to break me the way it did. All I know is that, after that day, nothing was the same._

* * *

Tony’s brain went from asleep to awake in the blink of an eye. It’d always been a skill he possessed; since his time here, it was one he was learning to refine. Being caught unawares and mostly asleep was a terrifying thing. It also meant slower reaction times, slower chance of defense. Kronos, especially, liked the joy of waking Tony up to pain. He liked the stunned shock and the instinctive fight almost as much as he liked turning that fight against him and using it to help break Tony back down.

Caspian didn’t hold that much thought to it. He just wanted Tony, awake or asleep, and Tony’s personal preferences had nothing to do with it. Tony’s _anything_ had nothing to do with it. All Caspian wanted out of him was his body, willing or no, and occasionally his _screams_.

If Tony had to pick which tent he was staying in, he would’ve picked Silas, every time.

Luckily, that was where he spent the most time. It was where he woke up that morning, his fifth day with them. _Five days and they’ve already got you trained_ , Tony thought with a swell of bitterness. He wished he could deny it, but Tony had always been honest with himself even if he wasn’t quite honest with everyone else. They _had_ trained him. He might not always let them see it, and he might deny it to anyone else afterward, but they’d trained him as surely as they’d trained a dog. He came when they called – already having memorized the word that either meant _come_ or _get over here_. He knew what _stop_ was. He knew when it was better not to fight.

They all seemed pretty pleased with his change. Well, almost all of them.

Methos watched him. Tony could feel it each time he went out to fetch something for someone. Water, blankets, whatever. It seemed like Methos almost always had his eye on Tony in some way, shape, or form. What he wanted, Tony didn’t know. Maybe he just liked to look. Kronos had taken Tony’s clothes pretty quickly, after all, and burned them. The only thing Tony had been permitted to wear since then was a bit of rough white cloth wrapped around him like a skirt. It left most of him on display, and none of these guys seemed to have an issue with the fact that Tony was a guy and not a girl.

What made it worse for Tony was that there was something about Methos that drew his eye as well. He didn’t know why he just knew that he couldn’t quite help but watch him. He tried to tell himself that it was because Methos was one of the biggest threats there. Oh, sure, Kronos and Caspian were dangerous. Kronos was the clear leader, and he was also a clear psychopath – but Methos? He was _smart_. Sharp.

A low grumble from the body behind his snapped Tony back out of his thoughts. He went still, hoping that Silas wasn’t quite waking yet. These quiet moments in the morning were some of the easiest that Tony had.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky. Silas shifted behind him and then suddenly pressed in closer. There was an unmistakable hardness that was clear against Tony’s back.

Tony closed his eyes against the feelings that gripped at him inside his chest. Like phantom pains where the arc reactor used to be. He lay there silently and said not a word as Silas slid his hand over Tony’s stomach and up to his chest until finally coming to rest at the base of his throat. It didn’t grip, the way that Kronos would, cutting off all air until Tony was gasping. Nor did it clutch there to keep him in place as Caspian would. Instead, it just held there, feeling his heartbeat.

The skirt they allowed Tony was still on the ground from last night. That meant it was easy for Silas to run his hands over Tony’s body. Easy to slide his free arm down and gather up Tony’s leg.

Though it went against everything in him, Tony didn’t fight it. He worked on breathing and relaxing his muscles. He’d already learned that prepping someone seemed not to be a thing at all to these guys. They were considerate enough to oil themselves, though that was likely because they didn’t want the sharp burn it gave them to go in dry. But his own comfort wasn’t typically a thing.

Silas was at least a little kind about it. As he lined himself up, he didn’t shove in the way that the others would. One hand still holding Tony’s throat, and the other holding up his leg, he carefully pushed in and pulled back, a slow and steady grind that gradually worked him in inch by inch. That made it easier for Tony to breathe his way through it.

 _Just breathe_ , he told himself. _Pretend it’s one of the million mornings you’ve woken up with someone else. Don’t think about who this is. Don’t think about how easily those hands turn painful. Just breathe._

Silas pushed those last few inches in, long and thick and fucking _painful_ no matter what Tony did, and it was all Tony could do to keep from sobbing. _What would everyone think if they could see you now? Laying here letting him fuck you. Not even trying to fight back!_

_“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”_

A bitter, slightly hysterical laugh slipped past Tony’s lips as Silas drew back. It turned into a sob when he shoved forward again. _A whore_ , he answered that mental voice. He felt Silas murmur in his ear and stroke soothingly at his throat, trying to pet him, calm him, yet again acting like Tony were some skittish animal he had to bring to heel. Even as he did, he never stopped the movement of his hips. Tony took it and forced the sobs to stay locked behind his teeth.

What the hell would Steve understand about something like this? He’d been through war, yeah, but he’d never been taken captive. He’d never been tortured – not like this. So what right did he have to judge? What right did he have to say anything about who or what Tony was? _Better a live whore than a dead hero_ , he snarled at that echo of Steve.

He’d do whatever it took to stay alive. Because maybe today Tony was their whore, but someday in the future, they’d let their guard down. He’d find a way to get free. He’d live, and wait, and strike when it was right. He could suffer the rest of it until then.

It didn’t take Silas long to finish. Tony could feel as his thrusts turned more erratic, as he pushed deeper and deeper until Tony swore he was going to split in two. Closing his eyes tight, Tony shoved his throat against Silas’s hand, forcing it to cut off his air. Anything to keep him from screaming. If he could keep quiet and calm, this would go so much easier.

Tony felt it as Silas gave a few last, hard jerks, burying as deep as he could, and then the wet warmth filled Tony’s body, while a sickness filled his heart. He held still and waited for the other man to slowly come down through the last intense rush of his orgasm.

Eventually, the hand on his throat moved, petting gently, and Silas murmured something before he pulled out. Tony wasn’t quite able to keep in the pained sound that he made when the other man tugged free.

“Shhh,” Silas soothed him, stroking his hand down Tony’s chest and over his stomach. Whatever else he said was in that language Tony really needed to learn. It’d make things a whole lot easier.

When he was finally free, he patted Tony’s flank and then nudged him out of bed. Tony took the hint pretty easily. It was the same pattern Silas seemed to follow each morning that Tony ended up back here – and so far, after the others were done with him, they were more than happy to send him back to Silas.

They’d wake up, a quick morning fuck, and then Tony was sent out to get food while Silas did whatever it was he did. Then back here, give him his food, help him dress, and the group would all gather together and talk about whatever it was they would talk about.

That was usually the way things went. Unfortunately, they weren’t that simple today.

Tony slipped his skirt on and tightened it as best as he could. As was becoming normal, there were no marks on him to show from last night. Nothing to say what had gone on inside the tent. The only thing that remained was his memories. _It’s almost like it didn’t happen._ If he tried hard enough, maybe he’d be able to pretend that that was true.

Two of the others were there when Tony emerged from the tent. Kronos and Methos were standing by the horses, looking dressed for battle. They seemed to be discussing something or other. Kronos cast a small look Tony’s way and then dismissed him. Methos, however, seemed to stare. It was unnerving. Tony swore he could feel the other’s gaze on his back as he made his way over to the pot by the fire where something that sort of resembled oatmeal was waiting.

As Tony squatted down to serve some up, he let his eyes once again run over the land around them. There was something almost eerie about being out in the desert. He’d noticed it the last time, too, while he was walking, hoping for rescue.

With the sand stretching out as far as the eye could see, it was almost like the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Like this was all that was left. The sand, the wind, and this small group of people here. If Tony tried to run, and _if_ he made it away from them, the desert would no doubt kill him. Oh, he could try and get a horse, maybe steal some supplies – and if the opportunity presented itself, that’s damn well what he was going to do – but he’d have to be careful not to leave the other horses for their masters to ride. What little food and water Tony was allowed kept him weak. His body seemed to heal injuries, yet it didn’t seem to heal the effects of starvation or dehydration.

Footsteps broke into Tony’s thoughts and warned him that someone was coming closer. He tilted his head just enough to sneak a peek upward. He wasn’t surprised to find that it was Methos who was moving toward him.

Methos reached a hand out as he passed Tony and actually _ruffled his hair_. Luckily, he wasn’t looking, so he missed the automatic scowl that crossed Tony’s face.

However, Tony couldn’t help from scowling again when Methos sat down on a nearby rock and smirked at him before crooking a finger. Seeing Tony’s scowl only made his smirk grow. _Fucking bastard_. Tony grit his teeth and carefully set down Silas’s food. As he started to rise, Methos held up a hand, palm flat, which froze Tony in his place. What kind of game was he playing here?

That became clear a second later. The hand that had stopped him now shifted to point down. Tony looked down instinctively, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. When it hit him, he froze. Wide eyes snapped back up towards Methos’ face. Was he serious? Did he actually expect Tony to _crawl_ for him? “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Tony blurted out. “Come on! You do realize I’m not _actually_ a dog, don’t you? I mean, fuck, considering the things your buddies like doing to me, I sure as fuck hope you guys don’t think I’m a dog. Otherwise, you got even more problems than I realized.”

His words didn’t have any effect. Methos still sat there, watching him and waiting, not even faltering at Tony speaking. He looked calm and completely at ease. A king, sitting on his throne, waiting for the slave he knew would come when commanded.

Oh, it grated against everything inside of Tony to do it. _Remember, you’re biding your time. This isn’t going to be forever. Just do what you have to so you can survive, and then you can get your revenge later._ And oh, was he going to get his revenge. Let other people preach the healing of forgiveness and letting go. Tony knew better. He knew just how therapeutic it was to take those that had dared screw with him and blast them all to hell.

Tony crawled forward on hands and knees. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment and a rage he didn’t bother to hide. He didn’t bow his head, didn’t hide his anger, though it only seemed to serve to further Methos’ amusement.

When Tony reached him, he found his face caught up by that deceptively gentle touch. Long, thin fingers curved over his cheek and then trailed down to his chin, tilting it up until Tony was looking up at him. In this position there was so much Methos could do to him. Or that he could make Tony do. Yet, despite that, Tony found himself caught up by the startlingly human look that briefly flashed through usually cold eyes. At that moment, Methos didn’t look like the terrifying monster that he’d seemed so far. He looked… sad.

Then it was gone again, and that coldness was back. Smirking once more, Methos ran his thumb over Tony’s lips. He bent in low in a way that left Tony sure he was going to be kissed. Honestly, actually _kissed_.

He hadn’t decided yet if he was going to allow it or jerk back when suddenly fire erupted in his chest.

Tony sucked in a breath as the pain flared brighter. He didn’t have time to wonder, to question what was happening. The pain grew sharper, Methos breathed something out against Tony’s lips, and the whole of the world went dark.

* * *

Life returned to Tony with a great big gasp. Pain ripped through his chest and his lungs as he sucked in air like a drowning man. With the air came a rush of adrenaline, a ghost-memory of agonizing pain in his chest, and Tony was already moving even before he finally got a full breath drawn in.

He ended up in a defensive crouch a few feet away. The sand slip-slid underneath him, and he adjusted his weight to compensate for it. At the same time, his eyes sought out the area around him, taking in every single threat just like Rhodey had taught him to. What he found… wasn’t what he was expecting.

He was in the camp still. Only, it looked a little different? Same setup, but the shape of the hills, the slope of their camp, those were different.

All of that was taken note of and discarded. The greater part of Tony’s focus was on the man standing a few feet away from him. Or, squatting. Methos was squatting in the sand, watching Tony with an almost curious expression on his face – and in his hand was a knife. One that Tony was horrified to see was still red. It matched the pile of red that seemed to have soaked into the sand in front of him, too.

Right where Tony had been.

 _No._ Disbelief had Tony looking down at his chest. There was one pale strip of blood there. Directly over where his heart sat.

Tony’s hand shook a little when he lifted it. He hesitated, not quite sure if he wanted to actually touch this, if he wanted to see. The instant he saw, it became real, and all those little suspicions and fears that crawled in the back of his mind wouldn’t be able to be ignored anymore. Licking his lips, Tony let out a breath as shaky as his hand, and he pressed his fingers to his chest.

Under the blood, his skin ran smooth.

Oh God. _God_. That was – it was _impossible_! Sure, he knew mutants and superhumans who had healing factors, but the only ones he’d ever heard of with a healing factor like _this_ were Wolverine or Deadpool, and Tony was damn sure he didn’t have that kind of power. He wasn’t a mutant, for one. Howard had tested for that when Tony was young, and again after puberty, just to make sure. The X-gene didn’t appear in his DNA at all. So how…?

When Tony looked back up, he found that Methos had sheathed the knife at some point, though he hadn’t risen from his crouch. He had his arms resting on his thighs and his hands dangling loosely between his knees. Those bright, sharp eyes of his – more gold than green at the moment – were watching Tony intently, like he was some sort of puzzle that Methos wanted to figure out. It was the same way that Tony looked at new tech. That curiosity, the need to take it apart and figure out how it worked.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Tony croaked out. He knew it was pointless. So far, his words had been a mystery to them. They’d showed no signs of understanding him.

His tone, however, seemed to get across. Methos raised both eyebrows in a look of clear surprise. Why was he surprised? Had he, what, just assumed that Tony knew this would happen? Maybe everyone they knew was like this.

No, that wasn’t possible. Any race that _couldn’t die_ would end up taking over the whole of the universe. They’d overpopulate. So maybe it was something unique to these specific people? And Tony, apparently.

As always, Tony’s brain took what facts there were and ran with them. He’d always fallen back on facts and numbers when the rest of life didn’t make sense to him. No matter what else was going on around him, or what he was feeling, facts and numbers didn’t lie. Even if sometimes it took him a bit to put them in an order that made them make sense. Focusing on a problem was Tony’s way of coping. Usually, it helped to center him.

Then again, usually he hadn’t just _died and come back to life._

All at once Tony’s life seemed to stretch out in front of him. These men, they were like him. They healed the way that he did; it stood to reason they were unable to die just like him. He’d never be able to kill them – and they couldn’t fully kill him. They’d be free to hurt him, over and over, and his body would heal. They could stab him, break him, push him every which way a body could be pushed, knowing all the while that he wouldn’t die from it. He’d always wake up right back up again. Here. With them.

There was no escape.

That thought shuddered through Tony. _There was no escape_.

The sound that bubbled up his throat was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. It was colored heavily with hysteria. He was trapped here. Until the day they tired of him, he was trapped, unable to ever get free.

Tony hadn’t realized how much the idea of that chance at a final escape – if all other plans failed – had mattered to him. Not until it was taken away. No matter what they did to him, he was stuck with them. Even if he ran, he couldn’t kill them on his way out, couldn’t stop them from trying to come after him. Would he even get far?

His hysterical laughter had been growing louder and louder, and he didn’t realize it until a hard slap to the face brought him out of it.

The next second, a hand was pinning Tony to the ground by his throat, and he found himself staring up into sharp green eyes. Methos had come close, and Tony hadn’t even realized it. Not until the man had pinned him down. He’d pushed himself between Tony’s legs and was using his body weight to keep Tony’s own legs spread wide enough he had no way of moving them. One hand was at Tony’s throat, and the other had caught hold of both Tony’s wrists, pinning them up above his head.

The position was one that Tony had indulged in plenty of times in the past. He’d never been ashamed of his sex life, or any of his kinks, and he was pretty equal opportunity in his loving. There were times he liked to be in control, and times he’d needed someone else to be.

Part of Tony had been well trained on how to respond in situations where he needed someone else to take control. When he was panicking and scared, when he felt like he was going to fly apart at the seams, being held down this way had always helped to relax him. Especially when Rhodey did it. Rhodey didn’t give him sex, no matter how much Tony might’ve begged for it, but he’d given Tony just enough domination to get by.

Tony’s body remembered that and reacted to it now by actually relaxing.

The instant he realized what he was doing, and who he was doing it with, Tony snarled and tensed all over again. “Get the fuck off me!” The words tore out of him with less force than Tony wanted. God, what the _fuck_ was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be reacting like _that_ with this fucking asshole!

When Methos responded by pressing Tony further into the sand and tightening his hold on Tony’s wrists as he snarled something back at him, well, later on, the engineer would admit he went a little insane.

Tony flung his body up and bucked as hard as he could against the body over his. He twisted and jerked and did everything he knew to try and get free. There was a brief satisfaction when he realized that Methos actually had to work to keep him pinned down. The man got close to him, likely to snap something out, and Tony gave another feral snarl and jerked his head up. Methos managed to move away just enough that Tony didn’t connect with his face, but it opened up the side of his neck, and Tony didn’t hesitate to lean in and bite – _hard_.

He tasted blood in his mouth and felt only a primal thrill at it. Clamping down, he pulled back, hoping he took a fucking _chunk_ out of the bastard as he did.

The legs between Tony’s shifted up abruptly and forced his wide apart and then _up_. At the same time, Methos actually let go of Tony’s hands to deliver a blow to the side of his head that had him reeling. Then those hands were grabbing Tony as he was dazed and pinning his biceps to the ground, making it so that he couldn’t use his hands for anything. Leaning up, Methos put his full weight on his hands, locking his arms into place.

No matter how Tony struggled, there was no moving. Not without risking dislocating his shoulders. He was well and truly pinned, and they both knew it.

Still, he glared up at his captor, chest heaving, and felt that satisfaction again when he saw the wound on Methos’ neck was still bleeding. _Good_.

Someone off to the side was laughing and saying something to them. Methos didn’t take his eyes off Tony as he answered. To Tony’s surprise, he looked angry, but not as angry as Tony would’ve expected. He looked more… curious.

Then suddenly he was letting go, and Tony knew what was coming, could see the move that Methos was making, only there wasn’t any time to do anything about it. Tony got his hand up and had it knocked away right before Methos once more took the knife and plunged it straight down into his heart.

The last thing Tony saw was that curious face watching him as the world faded away for the second time that day.

* * *

Knowing what had happened didn’t make Tony much more prepared for it when he woke up the next time. He still jerked, sucking in one long, deep breath in lungs that were craving oxygen. Only this time, he didn’t wake up in the sand like he had before. Instead, Tony came to on a blanket inside of a tent. Inside of _Methos’_ tent.

The man in question was casually reclined on his bed eating from the bowl he held. He didn’t say anything as Tony sat up. Just watched him with that same curiosity as before.

The panic that had gripped every inch of Tony earlier was muted now. Not gone, but more manageable. He didn’t feel it hazing over his thoughts like it had been. Later, he knew he might panic more when he was at least somewhat alone and free to just let the tears come. For now… for now, he had to get up, had to keep on moving, because laying down to die had never been an option, but it’d just become even less of one.

Tony apparently couldn’t die, at least not by obvious methods – he healed from pretty much everything. There was no telling what that meant for _aging_. Unable to die, unable to be truly damaged by anything that he wouldn’t quickly heal from, Tony was trapped essentially here with this group of sadistic bastards, and maybe they thought that made them win. Maybe it _did_. At least, for now. But he was Tony-goddamn-Stark and _giving up_ wasn’t in his vocabulary. This didn’t _end_ things. It just changed the rules a little bit. He’d still find a way out of here. He was just going to have to be more creative.

This was quite the bunch he was going up again. Silas was a bastard who had no qualms about keeping someone prisoner, or raping them, even if he showed a surprisingly gentle side sometimes. Kronos and Caspian were clearly psychotic. Definitely sadistic. That made them more dangerous, but it made them controllable in a way. Tony knew how to deal with sadists.

The one he had to worry about the most was the one that was currently staring just as intently as Tony was. This guy might be psychotic – clearly, he had no serious remorse for having a captive, or for any of the things they did to him. He’d fucking _stabbed_ Tony twice now! Sure, it would seem he knew that Tony wouldn’t die, but that that only proved just how calculating he actually was. He was more than willing to let Tony be dead for a little while if it made things easier for him.

His eyes showed intelligence; beyond that of his friends, definitely. There was a sharp mind behind those eyes. Whatever game Tony played here, whatever bid he made to get free, this was the one he was going to be up against.

With that playing through his mind, Tony pushed one hand against his chest and rubbed at the new blood there, while his other hand supported his weight against the ground. “We really gotta figure out a better way of talking to each other,” he said dryly, choosing to ignore that his words lacked a little of his usual snark. “It’s gonna get old, fast.”

In response, Methos held up the spoon in his hand and said something, watching Tony as he did. Then he held it there and stared at Tony like he was waiting or something. For what?

Methos wiggled the spoon at Tony and said the word again. Then, once more, he just watched.

Realization dawned on Tony slowly. There was no way this guy was trying to do what he thought he was – was he? The idea was both fascinating and worrying. If he was wrong, well, the worst that would happen was that Tony would look like a fool, and what did that matter? If he was right… if he was right, this might prove to be extremely useful.

Tony watched Methos carefully and then hesitantly tried to repeat the word back. Even to his own ears, it sounded bad. The way that Methos winced dramatically only made it even clearer.

The other man repeated it back, slower this time, and when Tony tried again with much better results, he got the hint of a smirk in response. One that Tony found himself answering almost instinctively.

Methos lowered the spoon back down to the bowl, using it to tap against the bowl as he said the next word.

Despite how shitty his situation was, and all the terrible things that Tony had learned that day, there was something in him that leapt forward at the knowledge that was now being offered to him. Methos was giving Tony the one tool that he’d been missing so far in this strange place – the ability to understand and be understood. Once Tony had that, so many more possibilities opened up in front of him.

* * *

The next few hours passed by fairly quickly. Tony had only been there for five days – five hellishly long days that felt like so much _more_ – but he’d been trapped here with nothing more to his days than sex, pain, and serving the bastards who were behind it all. Sure, he’d been trying to make plans, and those plans had helped to hold him together, but that had been all the real stimulation his brain received. For someone like Tony who thrived on constantly _going_ , and _doing_ , and _inventing_ , the lack of it had left him almost as desperate as the rest of it.

Learning a new language was exactly the kind of thing Tony’s brain needed. It was a challenge, one that he needed to accomplish as quickly as possible, and he’d always worked best under intense pressure. Not to mention, languages came easy to him. He’d grown up speaking more than one. College had furthered that skill, and working more at SI had helped Tony grow his abilities even more.

Watching Methos walk through everything in the tent and what its name was helped a lot in the tiny piecing together that Tony had already begun on whatever this language was. His mind was sharp enough that he’d started to learn how to break down the sounds he heard into what he’d thought were separate words – and hearing Methos talk now, one word for each thing, helped Tony gain more context for that.

Learning the first few languages was the most difficult. Teaching a brain to accept different sounds, different word structure, and translating it into your native language – that wasn’t easy. Tony had had a leg up because he’d learned both English and Italian as he grew. His brain was used to translating things from a young age. The more languages he learned, the easier it became. He didn’t have the same hurdles that most people did when encountering something new. He didn’t have to force his brain to accept a different way of speaking.

Combining what he’d picked up on his own and what Methos had given him meant that Tony’s brain was ready and more than willing to start accepting this new language.

He didn’t let on to that, of course. He made sure to take his progress slowly. Tony repeated each word that Methos taught him, messing them up sometimes on accident, and sometimes on purpose.

By the time that night rolled around, Tony felt like he’d gotten a pretty good grasp on a lot of the basics. Enough to understand what Methos meant when he told him “Go…” _something-something_ “…Silas.”

Ah. Dismissal time.

It felt strange to leave the weird peace that had wrapped around Tony in Methos’ tent. As he stepped out into the cool night, skin already pricking with goosebumps, he shivered from more than just the cold. For one brief instant, it’d almost felt like Tony had had a piece of himself back. A piece that didn’t belong to the cold brutality of these past few days. It’d been like an oasis in the middle of this desert. Leaving it was _hard._

Silas was standing not too far away, grinning at the sight of Tony. He held a hand out, clearly expecting Tony to come to him, and that chill grew stronger.

Still, Tony held a piece of that previous within himself as he lifted his chin and made his way across the sand. He found it was easier than he’d expected it to be. Easier to go to Silas, to let the man’s hand touch him and curve over him. Because Tony had found a piece of himself again. He’d lost a huge piece today, one he wasn’t ever sure he was going to get back, but the bit he’d found inside of Methos’ tent was enough to steady him once more.

Tony was going to get out of here someday. One way or another, he was going to get out of here.

He wasn’t going to forget that again.

* * *

_I’ve never quite been able to figure out what Methos’ intentions were behind teaching me their language. Up to that point, I’d been nothing more than a plaything for the others. A toy for them to pick up and toss down as they saw fit. One that they knew they could break over and over and find whole again the next time they wanted it._

_Finding out more about myself and my abilities, that was almost enough to truly break me. Looking back now, I think it might have. If I hadn’t woken up in Methos’ tent, if he hadn’t given me something for my mind to focus on, I might truly have broken. I shudder to think of how different things might now be were that the case. Back then, I might’ve believed I couldn’t die. I know better now. All it takes is one stroke of a blade, right across the neck. Take an Immortal’s head, and you take their life, and all the power inside them._

_Our necks are the most sensitive part of us, and the only part that ever carries any real scar. The bite I took out of Methos that day left a perfect crescent scar in the meat between his neck and shoulder. He’ll always carry that reminder of me with him._

_I didn’t break that day. Methos – intentionally or not – gave me something to hold on to. Something to keep my mind going. He gave me the first few key steps to learning the language of those around me, and in doing so, handed me a weapon. Knowledge is power, and he was opening the doors to the knowledge I needed most then._

_I like to think now that it was deliberate on his part. I can’t be sure, but I like to think so. I like to think that, even then, Methos was already drawing away from that life. I know the story now, how his gradual change began with a woman named Cassandra. She was the first shove he got in that direction. I only nudged him along the path she’d put him on. The path that led us to here. To now._

_One day, I’ll have to thank her for that._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Tony is learning a new language (and will do so frequently throughout the series, where he lives in various places with various languages) I’m going to make English as he knows it, as WE know it, in Bold while the others are all normal. If we get to a point where multiple languages are shown, I’ll let you guys know beforehand so you know what to expect. But English is going to be the least common of languages for a while, so it’s going to show up in bold.

_Sometimes when people talk to me, I think they tend to forget that ‘genius’ is more than a word used to describe my own personal ego. I’ve not exactly been shy about that description of myself in the past. In some ways, it’s been deliberate. The more I crow about my own genius, the more likely people are to dismiss it and forget what exactly it really means._

_It only took two days of surprising afternoon lessons with Methos, and a bunch of my own intense study and thought while lying in Silas’s arms at night, to start to pick up the basics of the language. I’ve managed to piece together some information since then, and I’m pretty sure the words were an ancient form of Sumerian. Whoever you are that’s reading this, I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing the Sumerian language spoken – especially a dialect as old as this one – but if you have, you know what I’m talking about when I say the language is beautiful._

_Too bad most of my early memories of it were of such crude and terrible things._

_Within a few days, I had a basic grasp of the language. Within a week I understood it most of the time even if I couldn’t always speak it._

_By the time I’d been with them for – as best as I could guess – a month, I was starting to think in Sumerian. To dream in it. For the most part, I played it dumb. I didn’t let on what I knew. Not even to my teacher._

_Of course, I’d already learned that ‘genius’ was a word that could easily be applied to Methos as well. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe me when I tried to downplay my abilities._

* * *

The sun was hot as it beat down on Tony’s back. He knelt at the edge of the oasis in front of him and let his arms sink once more into the water, marveling as he did at how cool it actually felt. He’d been so sure when they’d dragged him over here earlier that the water would be boiling hot. After all, it was in the desert, with the sun boiling them all. Why wouldn’t it boil the water, too?

Tony entertained himself with trying to figure out how the water stayed cool while his body was forced through the unfamiliar motions of hand washing clothes. It was supposed to keep him from focusing on the one thing he hadn’t wanted to see here – his reflection.

The churning of the water from his movements was enough to keep Tony from having to see himself – a fact he blessed. The last thing he wanted was to have to look down at himself and see a reflection of the changes he felt on the inside. Surely his body had to look different. After everything he’d been through this past month, everything that had happened here, there was no way his body didn’t reflect the changes he’d undergone.

As Tony wrung out the pants he held, he snuck a glance over at the four men lounging on the far side of the little oasis. Their horses were tied up to the few trees over there, safely out of Tony’s reach, and the men had stripped out of their clothes without hesitation or shame. Then they’d settled into the water to swim and relax like a group of boys on a hot summer day.

The thought had Tony’s stomach burning with rage. His moves became just a bit sharper when he straightened up and stalked over to slap the pants down on the clothesline Silas had strung up for him. _Fuck_ _those assholes and their goddamn pool party bullshit._

When Tony spun back around, he caught sight of sharp green/gold eyes watching him, and he deliberately ducked his head. He didn’t want to have to deal with those sharp eyes watching him right now. Not when his insides were feeling so bitter and jagged.

Unfortunately, when Tony reached the edge of the water again, his mind was so focused on not looking up at Methos that he forgot not to look at _himself._ When Tony kneeled down at the water’s edge, he found himself confronted with the very thing he’d been trying to avoid.

Every inch of Tony felt like it locked into place. Wide-eyed, he stared at his reflection and took in every single change.

His hair was longer – no real surprise there. His hair had always grown fast. The beard wasn’t a surprise either. Gone was the neatly trimmed facial hair. In its place, he had a full beard and mustache growing in. Though, they were uneven, and it gave him a scruffy look Tony found he really hated. The thinness of his face combined with that beard only made him look like a starving refugee.

There were other changes, too. Drastic ones. Like the absence of his arc reactor, which he still didn’t understand. Where had it gone? Where had his suit gone? He’d landed in this world without them. Was that a result of the magic of the wormhole? Whatever it was, it’d taken them from him, and in a way, Tony was just a bit grateful. He couldn’t imagine this existence with the arc reactor still embedded in his chest.

Tony’s eyes ran down the scars on his chest, taking them in, and then taking in the too-thin look of the rest of him. He’d really slimmed out. His muscles were still there, thank God, but they weren’t as prominent. What little weight he’d actually possessed was a whole lot leaner now. As Tony looked down, he could see the sharpness of his collarbone showing, the jut of his hip bones.

The strip of cloth wrapped around his waist was still the only concession to clothes they gave him. It left the rest of him on display in a way that Tony was terrified to realize he was beginning to find normal.

Caspian’s sneering voice broke through Tony’s introspection. “Your pet seems a bit broken today.”

The words had Tony jerking a little. He snapped out of his thoughts, reaching over to grab a shirt and stuff it down into the water. He was only halfway done with this, and he needed to get it finished before they decided to punish his laziness.

The fact that he was actively starting to do things in hopes of avoiding punishment wasn’t lost on him, and when Tony let himself think about it, he was terrified of the implications.

The low sound of Silas’s grumbles rolled through the air like a soft rumble of thunder. “Maybe if you didn’t try an play so hard with him.”

“Brothers,” Kronos interrupted sharply, warning clear in his tone.

It didn’t work, though. A glance up showed Tony that Caspian looked pretty pissed off. He was facing Silas with a sharp glare on his face and threat in every inch of his body. “Are you going _soft_ on him, Silas? Do you lose yourself in the tight grip of that ass around your cock, thinking that you’re special to him? That you’re anything more than a monster in his eyes? He would as soon gut you as he would take his next breath!”

“And whose fault is that?” Silas snapped back. He was rising from the water as well, looking just as pissed off as Caspian now. “I could’ve broken him gentle. But you had to decide to go and see how much you could break him!”

Tony’s hands just barely managed to keep up the motions they were supposed to be doing. The hairs on his body were standing up from the electrical charge that seemed to be building in the air. The two men were facing off with one another, clearly ready to come to blows, and Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to be around to see who won. Something told him it was going to be extremely important to his future.

Caspian sneered at Silas’s words. “You have gone soft. He’s a toy, nothing more. You’re getting as bad as Methos with that witch…”

What happened next was too fast for Tony to really take it all in. One instant Caspian and Silas were getting in one another’s faces, and the next Silas was falling backward, and Caspian was being held by a sword against his throat. Methos was pressed up against the back of his ‘brother’ and was holding his sword clearly against his throat. In contrast to the shouting from before, Methos’ voice was so soft Tony had to strain to hear it. “I suggest you watch how you speak, Caspian, before you lose the ability to say words at all.”

“Reluctant to hear the truth?” Caspian snarled out. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed that you’re not taking turns of your own with the little whore. Scared he’ll get under your skin the same way the last one did?”

Even from a distance, it wasn’t hard to see the coldness that flashed through Methos’ eyes. If Kronos hadn’t stepped forward, there was no doubt in Tony’s mind that Caspian would’ve lost his head then and there. But Kronos did step up, and he gripped Methos’ arm. “That is _enough_. Put the sword away, before it is me you face next, brother.”

There was a brief moment where everyone stayed still. Tony drew up the shirt he’d been scrubbing and carefully, quietly, wrung it out. He didn’t want to rise to hang it up yet. He didn’t want to risk drawing attention his way.

Then, abruptly, Methos drew his sword free. He glared at Caspian while he took a full step back. He didn’t let go of the sword, though.

Kronos nodded as if that was enough for him. His eyes were cold when they turned to Caspian. “You, watch your tongue before someone decides you don’t need it. Next time I might not be so quick to step in the way.”

The tension in the group was palpable, even from a distance. Tony kept his head down and carefully pushed himself up, trying to stay small as he moved to hang up the shirt. If he’d stayed there any longer, it would’ve been suspicious. Methos didn’t know how much Tony understood of the language, and the others hadn’t seemed to figure out that Tony understood more than basic commands. The last thing Tony wanted to do was give it all away.

He carefully hung up the shirt on the line and tried not to make any sudden moves. _You’ve adapted pretty fucking quickly to being prey_ , a mental voice said nastily. Tony quickly squashed it. _Better to play prey than to die._

When Tony turned back around, he found that the group had once more settled down into the water. Methos had his sword nearby, stabbed down into the sand so that it was within easy reach. His eyes were locked right on Tony.

Even in the heat of the sun, the look in those eyes sent a chill down Tony’s spine.

* * *

That tension was still there when the group finally broke from the water. Tony’s washing was done, hanging on the line, and Tony was kneeling at the water’s edge making use of some of the cool water to try and wash a bit of the sweat off his skin. His amazing healing didn’t seem to do anything for how hot he got, though it was keeping him from burning, it seemed. His skin had already darkened considerably into a rather full-bodied tan. He was naked outside enough that the tan went pretty much everywhere.

When Tony looked up from his discreet washing, he found that Silas and Caspian were already back by the campfire, Kronos was making his way over there, and Methos… Methos was very deliberately making his way towards Tony.

It wasn’t uncommon for Methos to claim his attention for a while. However, there was something different about the way the other man walked towards him. Tony was reminded of watching large cats stalking their prey on those Animal Planet shows Pepper had loved to watch. The danger and grace that showed in every single inch of their body. That was what Methos reminded him of now as he made his way to Tony.

Tony stayed in a half-crouch and watched as Methos came to a stop in front of him. The man stared down at him a moment, eyes dark, and then turned on his heel and made a simple gesture at Tony before heading towards his tent.

The gesture was enough to have Tony scrambling to move. He’d learned that one quickly: _come_.

A heavy feeling built in Tony’s gut as he followed after Methos. The way that Caspian was grinning at them, and the amused way that Kronos shook his head, only served to make that feeling worse.

As they passed the horses, the insane thought came to Tony of just jumping on one and trying his best to race off into the distance. Anything to get away from here. The things he’d already lived through here – Tony was a fighter, a survivor, but even he had his limits. And some instinct told him that things were about to change in a way he might not be able to come back from. In the back of his mind, Tony thought of the dreams he’d been having lately, full of darkness and the clashing of swords, and a low, furious snarl that he swore came from the man he was now following.

When they reached Methos’ tent – which had been set up on the edge of camp, this time, a bit further from the others – the man strode inside without even looking back to see if Tony would follow him.

Tony hesitated only briefly before he gathered his courage and stepped inside.

He wasn’t expecting it when hands struck almost the instant he was inside the tent. Tony found himself flying thanks to a hand on his shoulder and a booted foot at his ankle. The surprise impact sent Tony straight down to the carpet that covered up the sand. He hit hard, grunting as he did, and for some reason, the instinct he’d fought so hard to suppress came roaring to the forefront and had Tony rolling with the fall. He twisted and turned himself so that he was pushed into a defensive crouch, one hand already coming up as if he still wore his Iron Man gloves.

Methos was a few feet away and in a defensive crouch of his own. There was a bright grin on his face and humor sparked deep in his eyes. “You know, they were right about one thing. A year ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to have you.” Slowly, eyes never leaving Tony, the other man began to circle the room, grinning when Tony instinctively followed the gesture. It seemed to please him for some reason. “I would’ve had you on your knees begging to please me.”

A sneer curled Tony’s lips. Deliberately using English because he knew Methos wouldn’t understand it, Tony told him “ **Dream on, asshole**.”

To his surprise, Methos laughed. “Are we still pretending you don’t understand what we’re saying?” He said another word, one that Tony didn’t understand, and then laughed again, low and just a bit dark. “Or is it just that you don’t like the idea of how much my words might be true?”

To lie or not to lie – Tony was torn between the two impulses. From the sounds of it, his lies had already been discovered, at least by this asshole, but not _confirmed_. Methos had his suspicions but no proof. If Tony played this careful enough, he might really be able to come off as only half-understanding what Methos was talking about. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be believable. The way that Methos was staring at him said that his suspicions were pretty strong, and he wasn’t likely to believe any attempts at lies on Tony’s part.

Tony debated for one long moment and then made another of those rash decisions he’d always been known for. The kind that caused Pepper and Rhodey to groan and lament about him being _Too impulsive, Tony!_ In an almost flawless accent, Tony spoke the language he’d been secretly practicing. “If you’re so sure about my abilities, why haven’t you said anything to your brothers?”

A wide grin lit up Methos’ face. “Who says I haven’t?”

Snorting, Tony shook his head, still carefully circling with the other man. “They’re not as talented at…” he paused, not quite sure of the word he wanted, and settled instead for waving a hand at his face, trying to convey the usual masks that Methos wore. “They wouldn’t be able to resist rubbing it in.” Nor would they speak as freely in front of him.

“I imagine you wouldn’t hear near as much, either,” Methos said, an eerie echo of Tony’s thoughts.

The two men stopped their circling, and both straightened up, staring one another down. Tony took note of how Methos had stopped with his back to the entrance. It nearly blocked Tony’s immediate escape route.

The fact that Tony hadn’t even thought of escape once since he’d gotten in here was a disconcerting tidbit he was definitely going to have to think about later. However, Tony couldn’t ignore the way his blood was pumping through him, or just how alive he felt in that moment, staring down Death with a smirk on his lips and a readiness in his bones that he hadn’t felt since riding out as Iron Man. It made him a little braver; a little bolder. “So, is that what this is all about?” Tony found himself asking. He arched one eyebrow and gave his most arrogant expression, something Rhodey had always said he was too damn good at. “Calling me out on my little secret?”

“Among other things.”

Oh. _Oh_. Tony froze briefly. The meaning of the words wasn’t hard to understand. Instantly, Tony’s mind was replaying what had happened out at the oasis. From there, he easily made the jump to them being in here, and to what it meant for him. Tony’s mouth went dry when the realization struck. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to find all words drying up when Methos unhooked his belt and casually tossed it to the head of his bed. A second later his shirt followed it.

“What…” Tony had to clear his throat to force the words out. “What are you doing?”

Methos’ smile slowly shifted into a smirk full of dangerous intent. One that once would’ve sent Tony’s heart racing. “You heard my brothers. Caspian threw down a challenge out there. If I don’t take it up, they’re going to start looking a lot more closely at our time together.” The boots came off next, casually kicked off to the side. “If they do that, they might find that we’re not exactly engaging in the types of games they approve of.”

Still smirking, Methos took another step forward, bringing them closer and closer. Tony let out a shaky breath when he felt the heat of the other man come to a stop right in front of him. Close enough that Tony had to tip his head back just to look up at him. Methos exuded an aura of command around him that was hard not to respond to.

The older man lifted a hand and let his fingers trail lightly over Tony’s cheek. They were gentle, kind, right up until the moment that they reached his hair. Then Tony was letting out a gasp as his hair was gripped and his head was yanked back hard enough to make breathing difficult. Methos leaned in close and let his nose run across Tony’s beard, tracing his jawline until he ended up by Tony’s ear. “I would hate to have them try and kill you. Not when I have so many plans for you yet, my little one.”

“P-Plans?” God, the tremor to his voice was embarrassing! Tony clenched his hands into fists at his side and tried to still the urge to either hit the man or clutch at him.

The fact that he didn’t know which one he wanted more was terrifying.

Teeth caught the bottom of Tony’s ear, sending a shudder down him. He felt as much as heard the low chuckle Methos gave. “Mm-hm. All sorts of plans.” A warm tongue traced the line of Tony’s ear, and it was like it had a direct line to his cock, something that both shamed and aroused him even more. “I’m going to make you bleed, little Anthon. I’m going to make you scream my name. And then…” Another bite, just a bit sharper than the last one, and Methos’ voice dropped even lower, a husky sound that reached deep down inside of Tony. “Then, we’re going to talk. And you’re going to help me take care of my brothers so that they’re no longer a problem for either of us.”

There was no chance for Tony to do more than jolt at those last words. All of a sudden, the hand in his hair was tugging harder, and Tony let out a cry as he was forced down to his knees.

“Yes,” Methos hissed out. He held Tony perfectly in place, not the least bit bothered by the hands that came up to shove instinctively at his legs. Methos planted his feet and stayed steady and firm as he stared down at Tony, still smirking. “Let them hear you. We wouldn’t want them to think you were enjoying yourself in here, now would we?”

 _Even if it’s true?_ That traitorous part of Tony’s brain whispered at him again. He answered it by snarling and shoving harder at Methos’ legs. In English, he spat a fierce “ **Fuck you**!” packed with every bit of anger he could get into it. He didn’t question why he suddenly felt safe being angry at a being who he’d been so completely terrified of before.

Methos gave a dirty chuckle. “I don’t need to know the words to understand the meaning there.” Bending down low, he tilted Tony’s head back further, forcing him to arch at an angle that almost toppled him over. The only thing that kept Tony from falling was his grip on Methos’ hips, and the hand in his hair. Methos leaned in until his eyes, and that damned smirk were the only things Tony could see. “Good thing I’ve learned to enjoy a bit of fire. I’m definitely going to enjoy taming you.”

“ _Like hell_ …!” Tony’s words were cut off when a hot, hard mouth covered his, just as heated as the fire Methos had been talking about. The feel of it seared straight down through him and had Tony gasping.

The instant he did, he felt Methos push his tongue forward, tracing it over Tony’s lips, his teeth, tasting him in ways that had Tony wanting to moan out loud. Almost as much as he wanted to moan when that tongue withdrew, and sharp teeth sank into Tony’s bottom lip. The taste of blood joined in the heat of their kiss.

A thousand different thoughts were running through Tony’s head. Half of them were telling him what a bad idea this was, and how he should fight back, how he should stop this. The other half, well… it seemed torn between reminding him of his resolve to go along with whatever these men wanted just to keep them happy until he found out a way to escape, and wanting to throw himself into the first touch of kindness and real passion he’d felt since he’d arrived here.

Tony had always been a sexual and sensual being. He’d always craved touch, and he’d learned at a young age that sometimes even the bad, painful touches were enough. It was better than none at all. Later, he’d learned even more how to enjoy some of those painful touches. Sometimes he’d wondered if that was because of the things that younger-him had lived through. Then he dismissed it as something not worth pursuing. He enjoyed himself, and the people with him weren’t hurt, so what did it matter?

This… this was something else entirely. This was a touch Tony knew he shouldn’t want, not at all. Just like he knew that it was sort of inevitable. Like Stockholm Syndrome. Methos was the only one to treat Tony like a human being, even if it was just a little, just when in private. He was bound to trust this guy more, to fall for him in some ways even. That was just human nature.

Those thoughts were chased from Tony’s mind when their kiss broke, lips just barely a breath apart, and Methos stroked his free hand lightly over Tony’s throat. “Good boy.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open – when had he closed them? – and he glared hotly at the man above him. “I’m not your boy.”

“But you want to be, don’t you?” Methos pressed his palm over Tony’s throat and pushed, just enough for the pressure to be felt. His thumb traced over Tony’s jawline. “You want to be so good for me.”

“ **Fuck you** ,” Tony growled. _Yes, oh yes!_ “ **I’ll show you a good boy, you sadistic little fuck!** ”

The way Tony bucked clearly surprised Methos. The fact that the move cost Tony a few strands of hair, and sent him sprawling back, was no matter. As soon as he was on his back, he was kicking a leg out. Hearing Methos grunt as it connected with his thigh only made Tony grin. Turning, he flung himself away from Methos, scrabbling towards the side of the tent. He’d break through the damn thing if it got him out of here! Like hell if he was going to just lie here and let that asshole just… just make him…

_Make you want it?_

A hand closed around Tony’s ankle, and he snarled back at the other man, kicking his foot out to try and break free, but Methos’ grip was too strong. He held on tight and gave a firm _yank_ , dragging Tony back to him. “ **No**!” Tony growled, scrambling to grab hold of something and pull himself away. “ **Let go of me, you goddamn fucking bastard!** ”

When Methos dragged him closer, Tony spun around and used the momentum to swing his fist, almost managing to catch Methos’ face. The older man ducked enough that Tony’s first blow caught air, and the second only caught his shoulder. Methos seemingly absorbed the blow, rolling with it and dragging Tony with him. Tony let out a cry of surprise as he was yanked close while the world spun around him.

The two ended up with Tony on his back once more, only this time, Methos was pressing down on top him with his whole body. His legs twined around Tony’s, trapping them in place, and the rest of him was pinning Tony completely to the ground. With an iron grip that few looking at him would believe he had, Methos caught Tony’s arms and forced them up over his head, pinning him down once again by his biceps. Only this time, as he sat up and braced his weight there, the older man was grinning down at him in obvious pleasure. “Well now, this looks a bit familiar.”

“You going to stab me again?” Tony snapped. He tried to struggle, to push his body up or rock them side to side, only to find it useless. Methos had him pinned. Not only that but… every movement brought Tony’s attention to just how much Methos had enjoyed their little tussle.

The way that Methos laughed, a low husky rumble, or the way he tossed his head back to get his hair out of his face, probably shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. _You can NOT be attracted to him!_ Tony scolded himself. _He’s your goddamn captor. Not your friend, not your lover, not some hot-ass guy you’ve picked up in a bar. This is a guy who’s going to have no problems raping you just because you’re here, and because it’s what his precious ‘brothers’ expect of him._

Methos bent down low, never letting up his grip on Tony’s arms. “You going to bite me again?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The grin that Methos wore grew a little more. It changed it from something dark to something a whole lot more honest. A glimpse of the person underneath that was enough to transform his face from good-looking to _gorgeous_. It left Tony speechless. “You’re not the least bit afraid of me, are you, my little fire?”

“ **Fuck**.” Breath shuddered out of Tony. He knew he was too open in that moment, too lost in the truth he read on Methos’ face, and he hated himself a little for it. Yet it didn’t stop the words from slipping past his lips. “You terrify me more than your brothers put together.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

The answer seemingly pleased Methos. At least, Tony assumed it did, because in the next second he was being kissed with a fierceness that stole the breath from his lungs.

Tony battled with himself as he felt his body slowly start to respond to the rough handling, the intense kiss, and the warmth that was pressing down on him. Goddamn, but Methos was an amazing kisser! He was hitting all of Tony’s buttons, all the usual things that set him off and turned him on. The casual, easy domination, the roughness that Tony sometimes craved, that amazing feeling that came from being controlled. It was just what Tony sometimes wanted, what he desperately _needed_ , and he hated himself for finding even just a hint of it here with _him._

 _“I’m going to make you bleed, little Anthon_.” Those were the words Methos had promised him, and Tony remembered them now, unable to suppress another shiver. God, he was a sick bastard to be enjoying this!

But… why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? It was going to happen anyway, after all. Methos had made that clear. His brothers had thrown down a challenge and Methos had to step up to it or risk getting himself killed. Possibly the both of them. If Methos was going to do this anyway, why shouldn’t Tony get some enjoyment out of it? _Bad, bad, dangerous thinking right there._ But he didn’t care. For once, Tony just didn’t fucking care.

All at once, the decision made, Tony let himself melt down onto the floor in a way he knew Methos wouldn’t be able to ignore.

Against his lips, he felt Methos let out a hiss. Then the body over Tony’s was moving, rolling sinuously, and Tony groaned into their kiss. When Methos finally broke away, Tony was panting, and his eyes felt heavy. It took effort to open them enough to look up at the man’s face.

He found Methos watching him with possession clear all over his features. He whispered a word Tony didn’t know, one he’d never heard before. Then he was leaning forward again, hands sliding slowly up Tony’s arms, up towards his wrists, while at the same time he was twisting his hips. Their erections pressed together, drawing another reluctant moan from Tony. He was distracted by the pleasant touch, by the shift of Methos’ legs between his own, that he barely paid any attention to the hands at his wrists until suddenly something warm was being wrapped around them.

Tony tilted his head up in surprise and tried to look above him to see what was going on. Then it clicked. _Leather_. Methos was wrapping a leather tie around Tony’s wrists. When Tony looked back down, he found the older man smirking up at him. “Wouldn’t want you getting any ideas about trying to run again.”

“Where would I go?” Tony asked bluntly. He jerked his chin towards the front flap of the tent. “Your brothers wait outside. I’m pretty sure Caspian at least would have no problem trying to kill me for running.”

“Mmm. Not try. You might not die by normal means but make no mistake. My brothers know exactly how to kill you.” The leather was tightened a little more around Tony’s wrists. Then they were drawn up, and Tony made a sound of surprise as Methos suddenly pushed up on his knees right between Tony’s legs, stretching over him and dragging Tony up until… tilting his head back again, Tony could see as the tie around his wrists was lashed to the edge of a trunk that had been hidden under furs near the head of the bed. Or, what Tony assumed was the head of the bed.

Once Methos had Tony secure, he let his hands slide back down Tony’s arms, down over his sides, finally reaching his hips where he then lifted and moved him until the both of them were lying on top the furs. There, Tony found himself spread out, arms stretched above his head and legs forced apart by the body that knelt between them. It was a submissive pose that sent dark thrills straight through Tony’s stomach and into his groin.

Methos drank in the sight of Tony like a starving man at a feast. His eyes focused right on the stupid skirt that Tony wore, which had been twisted a few times during their fight yet had managed to stay on. Mostly, he seemed to be staring at the tent in it. “You want this.” Pure satisfaction rang through those words.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Tony tried to say. Somehow, he doubted the words had quite as much effect when spoken in such a breathless voice.

Methos’ only answer was a smile.

The man leaned forward again, capturing Tony’s lips in another of those brutal, mind-numbing kisses that left Tony’s lips tingling. He groaned happily at the bite to his lip, enjoying the taste of blood almost as much as Methos seemed to. The man had barely moved away, lips going to his neck, when Tony felt the tingle of healing across his lip.

“Let’s see if we can make you scream, hm?” Methos murmured against Tony’s neck.

What happened next was an assault against his senses that Tony had no hopes of holding out against. With lips and teeth and hands, Methos set about driving Tony absolutely mad. He was at times excruciatingly gentle, nipping softly at Tony’s skin and lathing over the marks with his tongue, while gentle hands stroked everywhere they could reach. Others he was almost brutally hard, biting until he drew blood, leaving teeth marks and bruises on every available inch of skin. He tasted every part of Tony from his head down to his toes and back up again.

When Tony’s cries got too loud, when he threatened to let the people outside this tent know just how much he was enjoying himself, Methos grabbed some material and stuffed it in Tony’s mouth before taking another and trying it around his head, holding the makeshift gag in place. “You are so loud,” Methos growled at him, biting Tony’s nipple hard enough to draw a muffled shriek from him. “I can only imagine if I had you in a place where we would not have to worry about anyone coming along. I’d let you scream your joy to the Gods.”

Tony wanted to answer – he did! – but even without the gag, he doubted he would’ve been able to. His mind was caught up in a haze of pain-pleasure-lust that had consumed everything but the need to feel _more_.

When Methos sat up on him, straddling his waist without touching the aching cock that now proudly stood at attention – his measly excuse for clothes long since discarded – it took Tony a moment to clear his vision long enough to look up at him and see what was going on.

The knife he saw in Methos’ hand sent twin jolts of lust and terror through him.

“I told you I was going to make you bleed for me.” With that reminder, Methos leaned in, and he lightly trailed the tip of the knife against Tony’s cheek. The cut was light, but barely burning, yet it was enough to draw first blood.

Tony watched with avid eyes as Methos lifted the blade and flicked his tongue out, catching the bit of blood that dripped from the tip. The sight had Tony panting harder. _Oh, God, please._ That was the only coherent thought in his head. _More_. He wanted more!

Methos didn’t disappoint.

Every place that his mouth had just been, the knife now traveled along. Sometimes it just glided over his skin, sometimes it cut into him. Little cuts, big cuts, shallow, deep. There was no way Tony could keep track of it. He was lost on a wave of pain as it all began to blur together for him. He felt it tracing patterns along his stomach, down his thighs.

Then it was gone, and firm hands were taking hold of his hips. Whatever Methos said, Tony didn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear anything. He was being grabbed and turned over onto his stomach, and all he could do was go with it, hoping for more, for anything, please!

The first press of his aching cock against the blankets had Tony rutting forward. Instantly, a hand cracked down on his backside, tearing a cry from his lips. Three more were delivered in rapid succession. Tony pulled away from the touch, yet shoved back into it a second later. When it stopped he felt almost adrift, crying out plaintively against his gag.

Firm hands pressed down against his shoulder blades, shoving him down into the bedding. He felt Methos lean over him, bending down so that he could whisper in Tony’s ear. “Hold still, Anthon. I’m not done with you yet.”

Methos pulled back and removed his hands from Tony’s skin, replacing them with the sharp tip of that blade again. Tony clenched his hands and shuddered as he felt it press down into his skin. He tried to hold still – it was the one command he’d been given, and God, he wanted to obey, do anything, so long as this didn’t stop! – as Methos once more began tracing patterns Tony couldn’t see into his skin. Vaguely, he wished his body didn’t heal so quickly so he could get a chance to see what Methos carved. See what it was he was writing.

By the time the knife was pulled away, the tent was filled with the sounds of panting and sobbing and the scent of fresh blood.

Tony heard a clatter only moments before Methos was lying on top of him, pressing down against all those cuts that were still trying to heal. Tony cried out, yet pushed back, desperately needing more.

“You are…” there was a low word, that same one as before, that Tony didn’t recognize. “Look at you, my bright little fire. Burning so bright for me. I knew you’d please me, Anthon.”

Firm thighs pressed between Tony’s, and he willingly spread his legs, letting Methos settle in there. Lips and teeth closed over Tony’s shoulder at the same time that slick fingers reached down between them and pushed inside.

This wasn’t _stretching_ the way that Tony was used to. It wasn’t lube, and fingers pushing in carefully. This was a hard thrust of what were likely oiled fingers – or fingers wet with something else, something Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to think on – with a force and sharpness that had Tony letting out another cry. Then they were gone almost as quickly as they’d come. The next instant, hands were gripping Tony’s hips, drawing them up, and Methos was sliding into place. The heavy heat of Methos’ erection rubbed over Tony’s skin.

“Beg,” Methos snarled right next to Tony’s ear. This was a word Tony knew – one he’d learned rather quickly. Kronos was fond of demanding it. Even if he didn’t understand the words that Tony used, he was still fond of the pleading tone.

For Kronos, Tony had used that tone, but he hadn’t used the words the man thought. He’d used that time to curse him every which way he knew.

For Methos, there was absolutely no hesitation. Words spilled past his lips before Tony could even think about it. “ **Please, please, Methos! _Please_ , I need… I need! P-Please!**” The words were a bit broken, nonsensical, yet they did the trick. Tony barely got the last one out when he felt Methos line up, and then slam home.

The scream Tony let out was likely heard all through the camp, even with the gag in. Fire and pain erupted from him, twisting together with the pleasure he’d already been feeling, and if Tony had been flying before, he was up in outer space now. That hazy feeling had taken over, one that he so rarely managed to reach unless he found a really, really skilled Dom.

Every thrust of that achingly large cock felt like it speared straight up into Tony and sent him higher and higher. He knew Methos was grunting behind him, could feel the rawness in his own throat from his screaming, yet Tony was lost to it all. He was lost to the pain and the pleasure that came with being completely and totally owned.

Feeling Methos’ thrusts grow harder, more erratic, Tony had a vague sense of pleasure that skittered around the edges of his high, growing stronger when he felt the unmistakable warmth of the other man’s orgasm.

Then hands were pulling him, and one was reaching under, grasping Tony’s aching cock at the same time that teeth bit sharply at his ear and multiple sharp points dragged down Tony’s back. “ _Now_.”

There was no denying that command. Tony screamed into his gag one last time as his orgasm was ripped forcefully from him. It went on and on, wave after wave of pleasure that threatened to take him out, suck him under.

When it finally stopped, Tony was limp, his mind finally silent. He lay there as he only distantly felt Methos pull out of him. Not even the sudden freedom of his hands or the removal of the gag was enough to stir Tony. He felt so good. Calm. All he wanted to do was lie there and sleep.

He heard a chuckle above him, and then something warm and soft was draped over his body. “Sleep, Anthon.”

That was a command he could follow. Closing his eyes, Tony let himself drift.

* * *

_That time with Methos was nothing like what I’d expected. He was – intense. That’s the best word I can think of, even now. There’s a dark intensity to him that I can’t even begin to explain or put into words. But to have it all directed on you is a heady feeling. I had no idea what I was getting myself into by submitting that way to him. There was no way I could’ve predicted how much that man would start to burrow down into me, deeper than I’d ever let anyone before._

_Even if I had, I’m not sure I would’ve changed it._


	4. Chapter 4

_It took a few days before Methos and I were able to finally have that ‘talk’ he’d mentioned. I woke up after my nap to the feeling of being shoved down to the floor. Seconds after that, Kronos had come in, and I once more found myself being stabbed. Later, I learned that it was their way of keeping me from running away while they went out to rape, pillage, and plunder._

_Then, once they were back, I was back in Silas’s tent. It was like he was determined to stake his claim on me once more. It was the most gentle he’d been since I came to them._

_Days passed before Silas let me out of his tent again, no matter how the others teased him. After that, it was another week or so before Methos was finally able to pull me into his tent once more. By that point, I’d had plenty of time to freak out properly about just how much I’d let the man in and how deep I’d fallen. I knew the dangers of coming to care for a captor. I knew the risk I’d taken by giving in and letting him have me like he had. That hadn’t been just physical. I probably could’ve coped with that. No, I’d trusted him enough to sleep next to him while drifting through subspace, and that was so stupidly dangerous._

_When I went into his tent that late evening, I was determined not to be that stupid again._

* * *

The glower that Silas gave as Methos escorted Tony away wasn’t missed by either man. Nor was the amusement on Kronos’s face. Tony tilted his chin up in that hint of arrogance they all knew and expected from him. He tried not to let the little thrill of anticipation he felt show. There was no reason to get excited about what was about to happen. He had no actual idea why Methos was bringing him over, even if the man had made it clear to the others what he wanted. Groping Tony as he went past more than once had been a blunt message. Still, Tony knew better than to think Methos was direct about _anything_. There were always layers to everything about him.

So sure was Tony that there was another reason behind being called in there, he was caught completely off guard when they got inside the tent, and Methos immediately grabbed him and yanked him in for a kiss. One hand pressed in the small of Tony’s back, yanking him in close, and the other hand fisted in his way-too-long hair and held him there so that Methos could plunder his mouth.

When they broke apart, Tony knew his expression was dazed. Methos chuckled as he let Tony settle back down onto his feet again. He braced Tony long enough to make sure he’d stay standing, then let go of him, though not before ruffling Tony’s hair first.

Tony ducked away from that hand without thinking about it, scowling. He was surprised to find he got a smile in return. It left Tony off balance and unsure about what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

With a gesture of his hand to tell Tony to follow, Methos went over and dropped down onto his bed. A look at his pose told Tony clearly where he was supposed to be. Methos had propped himself up against the pile of bedding and the chest near the head, and he’d splayed his knees wide. There was a dare on his face that had Tony wanting to punch him.

Amusement showed clearly in Methos’ eyes. He lifted one dark eyebrow, adding to that dare. “They’ll expect to see something if they walk in.”

That little reminder was all Tony needed to decide what to do. Methos wasn’t wrong; if someone walked in, they’d need to see the two of them doing _something_ together. It was the only reason that the two of them should be together. The fact that this apparently wasn’t in Methos’ plans had Tony’s curiosity growing. That, more than anything else, prompted him to move forward and slowly sink down to his knees.

He hesitated again, sneaking a look up at the older man’s face, and then let out a breath before leaning in, hands going to brace on Methos’ knees.

A tap against his left hand had Tony looking up. “Hands behind your back, little one,” Methos warned him. There was a ghost of reprimand in his tone, and a surety in the command, that made a small lick of heat curl in Tony’s stomach. He tried to hold tightly to his composure as he drew his hands behind his back. Tony clasped his left wrist with his right hand and rolled his shoulders, settling into the pose.

Methos made a low sound of approval. One hand came up to Tony’s head and slipped into his hair in a casual hold. “You look so very good like this.”

“Is that why you brought me in here?” Tony asked. He was proud that his voice didn’t tremble.

“It is tempting, isn’t it?” The hand in Tony’s hair tightened just a little, drawing him in, and what the hell else could Tony do except let it happen? He let Methos pull him in until Tony was nosing along the line of Methos’ thigh. The angle they were at had Tony off-balance and trusting in the hand in his hair to help keep him steady. Damn, but Methos was good at those kinds of poses! He seemed so good at putting Tony in a position that required him to trust the older man to hold him.

Tony drew in a breath through his mouth, trying deliberately not to draw in the scent of the man he was so intimately close to at the moment, and brought his eyes up to Methos’ face. _Calm. Cool. Don’t let him know how much he’s affecting you._ “And here I thought you wanted to talk. About your little plan, I’m guessing.”

“Mm. I could always wait till after.”

“I could always test just how strong _your_ healing is,” Tony shot back, a baring of teeth making it clear just what he meant.

He sucked in a sharp, pained breath when Methos’ hand clenched tight in his hair. Suddenly dangerous eyes pinned Tony in place and made it almost impossible for him to move. “You’d pay quite dearly for that, I promise you.”

In those soft words was enough threat to have Tony swallowing down a sudden lump in his throat. Okay, so, Methos clearly liked a bit of attitude, at least so far, but there were lines.

Abruptly the hand gentled once more, and Tony found himself steered further up, his nose pressing against the growing bulge in the cloth pants. Methos held Tony there as he started to speak, voice low enough that one would’ve had to be almost on top of him to hear it – like Tony was. “I’ve been running with my brothers for quite a long time. Recently, we’ve started to… drift apart, I believe you’d say. I’m looking to make that a little more permanent.”

“So why not just leave?” Tony murmured. His lips brushed against Methos’ pants, and he felt the other man shiver.

When he snuck a look up, Methos was giving him a look that clearly said _Don’t be stupid_. “Just _leaving_ is not an option, as you should well know.”

Yeah. He could see that. For all that they used words like ‘brother’, it was clear there was a lot of tension in this little family. Especially between Kronos and Methos. Most of the time, Tony was pretty sure the tension was far from brotherly. Kronos watched Methos a little too closely, and a little too covetously, for it to be anything like that. No, what he wanted with Methos was a little darker. A little like the look that Methos wore now as he was looking down at Tony.

Biting his bottom lip, Tony deliberately pushed forward with his nose, making Methos let out a soft sound that Tony probably wasn’t supposed to hear. _Good_. Maybe he could work this to his advantage. Get Methos off balance. He might find out more that way. “So,” Tony said, making sure that he was close enough for his breath, for each movement of his lips, to be felt. “You’re looking for my help to get you out of here. You must be desperate.”

“Who better?” Methos fired back lowly. His voice had gone just a bit huskier.

When Tony looked up again, he found himself caught by the dark eyes that were watching him. It was a sight that had him stopping and just staring.

There was an energy in the air between them at that moment. A shift in the balance between master and slave to something just a bit different. It felt like they teetered on a precipice. However, this next moment went it was going to make a big difference for the future. Tony didn’t know how he knew that he just knew it was true. “What makes you think I’m not going to go tell them what you’re planning?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Amusement curved Methos’ lips. “What makes you think they’d believe you?”

Tony arched an eyebrow at him. Is that how he wanted to play this? Well, two could play the cocky bastard. “I don’t know – seems to me like they already don’t trust you a little. You’re pulling back from them, and they’ve noticed it. Caspian thinks you’ve started to lose your taste for this kind of stuff. Even Silas has noticed that you haven’t taken anyone other than me, and he’s not sure if it was more than the once.”

The words struck a nerve, Tony could see it. There was a flash of that something-real again in the depths of Methos’ eyes. The tiny little spark that Tony had seen more than once, and that he found himself wanting to pursue, to fan into something more, something bigger. The hand in his hair clenched just the slightest bit.

He couldn’t help pushing a little more. “They talk sometimes, when they think I’m not listening, and when you’re asleep. They’re beginning to worry that you’re going to try and leave them. Silas probably won’t care much, though he’ll miss you guys. And Caspian’s getting bored with all the _rules_. But Kronos won’t let you go. He wants you, but he doesn’t trust you. Not after Cassandra…”

That name had been the biggest risk of all. Tony had heard it a few times, usually in grumbles, and usually connected to Methos. He’d waited for them to talk more, to give him a better understanding, but Tony had only managed to hear a little.

The reaction it got out of Methos now had Tony wishing he’d learned a bit more. Enough to realize just how much of a huge fucking landmine this was.

Methos clenched down tight on Tony’s hair. Then he used that hold to draw him up so that his other hand could grab at Tony’s throat. He held on there as he slammed the engineer into the ground hard enough to make Tony’s head given a sickening _crack_. Methos followed with him and held him there as he bent in close, hand pressing hard enough to cut off Tony’s air. “Watch how you talk to me, _boy_.”

 _Tread carefully here, you idiot._ As usual, Tony wasn’t all that great at listening to the warning voice in his head. “Sore subject, Methos?”

The hand on Tony’s throat pressed even harder. “It will be for you if you’re not careful.”

For one long moment, the two just stared at one another. When it was clear Tony wasn’t going to continue – could, in fact, barely fucking breathe, thank you very much! – Methos slowly let up on the pressure to Tony’s throat.

When he finally let go and moved back to sit on the bed, a mask fell over his features. One that was almost perfect. If Tony hadn’t seen the rage moments before he wouldn’t have even guessed it was there.

Reaching one hand up, Tony rubbed a little at his throat, trying not to let the bitterness show on his face. As much as Methos probably wanted to show Tony just who was in charge here, his actions had done something else entirely. They’d showed Tony a chink in the man’s armor. A glimpse at the man inside. And what Tony had seen was someone who was more than just ready to _drift apart_. That look – that was the look of a man trying to climb out of hell and was just barely clinging on by their fingernails. It was a look Tony knew well. He’d seen it often enough in the mirror.

When Tony looked up, he let just a bit of wry humor show on his face. “Right then. Well, now that we’ve firmly established that topic as a no-no, why don’t we get back to the one at hand.” Tony moved forward to get back onto his knees once more, and he brought his hands behind his back again without being prompted. As he leaned in, he cast a coy look up at Methos through his lashes. “Tell me, oh Great One. What is it you think someone like me can do for someone like you?”

Methos stared down at Tony, clearly contemplating his plan or whatever else was going through his mind. Then he reached a hand out, fingers trailing lightly over Tony’s beard. “How fast can you learn another language?”

* * *

_His plan, it turned out, was pretty simple and also pretty smart. Methos wasn’t blind to the mistrust his ‘brothers’ felt for him. He knew if he tried anything on his own it was going to be suspicious. What he needed was someone else who could step in and help steer things along just where he wanted them to be._

_That was where I came in._

_If I picked up on a new language quick enough, one that Methos picked deliberately as he was the only one that knew it, we could communicate in private without the others catching on, and we could also claim that I told him something the others wouldn’t be able to verify. Then Methos would talk to Kronos and tell him about a temple that I knew of, that my ‘people’ had worshiped at, that had an item of great power. Something that would catch Kronos’s interest. He was a power-hungry bastard – the type to not want to share that with anyone._

_He’d have to take Methos and I – me as the one who knew the way, and Methos as the translator – but we hinged our hopes on him being greedy enough to send Silas and Caspian away._

_I wasn’t sure how well it would work, but Methos seemed confident it would be fine._

_To my surprise, it was._

_Just one day after Methos presented the story to Kronos, with me mock trembling on my knees at his feet, the three of us were on our way. Caspian and Silas were sent off to a nearby city for some R &R, and Kronos, Methos, and I rode away. I was more than grateful that Kronos didn’t insist I ride with him. That was the last damn thing that I wanted. I rode behind Methos, pressed up against him, and was absurdly grateful for the whole rich-boy parts of my childhood that meant that I at least knew the basics of horseback riding. I’d loved it as a kid._

_We rode for days, heading towards the small section of the coast that Methos had told me about. With his instructions, and some help whispered in my ear on the way, I was able to direct them. But after five days, we finally reached the ocean, and it was time for the next part of our plan. This was where things had the chance to go a bit crazy._

* * *

There was no denying the nerves Tony felt as the ocean came into view in front of them. He pressed himself up against Methos’ back and tried to pretend the shiver he gave was solely in response to the cool ocean air against his bare skin. He snuck a look over to where Kronos rode beside them. The other man had redone his paint this morning, he’d combed back his hair, and he’d had Tony polish his armor. He’d made damn sure he looked as impressive as possible for this ‘power’ he was going to get.

Tony wasn’t sure he was ready for the next part of Methos’ plan. This was the part that was really going to require Tony to put some effort towards. It was the part that was also going to put Tony at the most risk. If they were lucky, whatever Kronos did wouldn’t matter, because Tony would heal and Methos would be there. Would be fast enough. If he wasn’t… well, Methos had warned Tony, the only thing he needed to seriously avoid was getting beheaded.

That hadn’t been a fun conversation. “It’s the only thing that can kill those like us,” Methos had told him. “Cut off our heads, and the other Immortal gains our power. It’s the only way we die. Everything else, we heal from. Remember that.”

At least that answered the question of whether or not he could actually die. Tony tucked that little tidbit away with everything else he’d figured out since he couldn’t seem to get Methos to tell him a thing usually.

The horse came to a stop, and Tony was snapped out of his thoughts. He felt Methos shifting against him and knew that the other man was just as nervous about this as Tony was, even if he didn’t want to admit it. After all, this was a man that Methos called _brother_ , and they were about to try and take him out. Without him, the Horsemen would be no more. Even Tony could see that. He was the one that held them all together. With him gone, and Methos going into hiding, Caspian and Silas wouldn’t try to find them. They’d live their lives. The Horsemen would be done. And Tony… Tony might have a real chance at being free. Then he could finally figure out where he was and how the hell he could get back home.

They all dismounted, and Kronos looked around, eyes scanning the horizon. There was an island out there – just like Methos had said. Only, they didn’t have a boat. “How exactly do we plan on getting over there?” he asked. Sharp eyes snapped over to Methos and pinned him. There was danger there, and a hint of suspicion. “Ask your little pet how we’re supposed to get to this place. Swim?”

Methos turned to look at Tony, and though his face was hard, that mask firmly in place, the look he gave clearly told Tony that it was time. Any delay would only make Kronos more suspicious. Whatever Ton was going to do to distract him, it’d have to be now.

When they’d planned this, Methos had said that Tony would have to distract Kronos so that Methos could sneak in and stab him.

Tony took a deep breath and mentally tried to prepare himself for this. He tried to remember what he felt like as Iron Man. The strength, the confidence, that had once been an intrinsic part of him. He’d buried that part deep to play the role he’d needed here – a role necessary to survive. But that was done with. Now it was time for Anthon to take a backseat and Tony Stark to step to the forefront.

He felt the shift in his posture; the straightening of his spine, his shoulders squaring. Tony let all the pride and arrogance he’d ever had fill him, and he lifted his chin, meeting Kronos’s eyes dead on. “No.”

Surprise had Kronos’s eyebrows going up. “What did you say to me?”

Tony took a step back and away from Methos. They needed him to play his part, too, which meant that he was dangerous right now. Still, Tony made sure to keep his eyes on Kronos. “Are you deaf, or are you just stupid? I said _no_. I know it’s not a word you’re used to hearing, so let me spell it out for you.” Another step away from Methos, just a bit more distance, and Tony let himself smirk. “No, I will not take you out there. No, I will not help a bastard like you gain any more power. No, Kronos.”

“You traitorous dog,” Methos snarled at him, moving to stand a bit more beside Kronos. He played his part well – everything about him screamed cold fury. One hand was already resting on the hilt of his sword, and he clearly looked ready to draw it. So did Kronos.

Tony didn’t give them the chance.

He leapt forward, clearly telegraphing his moves towards Kronos, knowing that both would read it and try to stop him. It made a perfect opening for Tony to jerk at the last moment and slam into Methos instead.

There was a pretty big part of him that was more than a little satisfied at slamming into Methos and sending them both down to the sand. He owed the asshole for knocking him down so many times. But Tony didn’t let himself waste any time crowing over it. As soon as they landed, he was scrambling to grab the knife that Methos always carried. Methos fought him for it, but Tony’s attack had been a surprise, and it allowed him to get a hand in and yank it free, slashing over Methos’ arm as he went.

He pressed on Methos and used him as a launch pad to fling himself off to the side, away from the two. Then Tony was up, body in a defensive crouch, the knife held out in preparation.

Kronos drew his own blade slowly. A deadly smirk grew on his face as he did. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“ **Better assholes than you have tried,** ” Tony snarked.

Then there was no more time for words at all. Kronos came forward, and Tony was fighting with everything he had to try and keep from getting stabbed.

Swords had never been Tony’s thing. It was one part of the rich-boy life he’d never wanted to get involved in. Fencing was stupid, and Tony had clearly told his mother that the one time she’d tried to sign him up. The way she’d laughed afterward, the delight on her face, was a fond memory for him.

Now, Tony kind of wished he’d taken her up on that.

Keeping from being stabbed or beheaded wasn’t easy. The only thing that kept Tony alive was the defensive training he’d gone through. Even that wasn’t helping much, though, when up against someone with a skill level like Kronos, and after months of no practice and low rations. Tony’s body was thinner and more easily tired, and it showed.

When Kronos came at him again, sword flashing, Tony knew he wasn’t going to be able to block this one. There was a split second where Tony had a decision to make, and then he was moving, flinging himself forward towards the pain he knew was about to come.

The sword slid straight through Tony’s stomach like it was cutting through warm butter. The pain was excruciating – far beyond the pain he’d felt when Methos had stabbed him. This wasn’t a quick death. This was slow and painful. Meant to disable him long enough for Kronos to pull the blade free and truly end it. However, Tony didn’t intend on giving him the chance. As he fell in close, those mad eyes alight on his face, Tony could feel the pain in his stomach growing, and numbness starting to spread through his limbs. Soon, he wasn’t going to be able to do what was necessary.

It took everything Tony had to bring his arm up, to try and bring that blade in, only Kronos was faster. So much faster. He slapped at Tony’s hand and sent the blade flying, taking Tony’s last hope with it. As he looked up, the engineer could see death written on Kronos’s face in a way he’d never quite seen it on Methos.

Then suddenly, Kronos jerked, shoving the blade deeper into Tony’s stomach. The rage on his face was briefly replaced with shock. Looking down, Tony could see why.

The tip of a blade protruded from Kronos’s chest.

When Tony looked up again, he let his eyes travel over Kronos’s shoulder, back to the fierce face right behind the man. Methos stood there with his sword in hand, forcing it deep through the chest of the one he’d called brother. There was pain in his eyes, and anger, and regret.

Those were the last things Tony saw before the numbness finally took him, and he died – _again_.

* * *

When Tony woke up again, he was alone on the beach. It took him a few minutes to force himself to sit up, to push past the lingering ache in his stomach where the wound had healed over. Pushing against the sand, he leveraged himself up until he was half sitting, half reclining. Once he was up, he pushed his hand through his hair, shoving it back from his face, and took stock of his surroundings.

There was no sign of Methos or Kronos. That fact was a bit terrifying, and Tony might’ve started to panic more if he hadn’t noticed the horses had been staked out at the end of the sand, up by the grass.

So, no signs of his captors, and the horses still here. Tony scanned around him once more and tried to take in more. Anything that might clue him in as to what had happened while he was out.

His eyes landed on the sword lying nearby in the sand. Kronos’s sword. But no sign of Methos’ sword. And from there, footprints, leading towards the water. So… Methos had won? But if that were the case, what was he going to do with Kronos on that island, and how had he gotten him there? Had he actually swam it?

Tony shook his head. That thought was pointless, and far from what he should be thinking about right now.

How long had Tony been dead for? Had Methos had time to swim to the island yet? Was he all right? Tony stared out over the water and wished that he had the ability to see that far away. That he had some binoculars or something like that. If they even existed in this weird ass place. Now that they were free, he’d have to ask Methos…

The thought cut off abruptly as Tony realized what it was he’d just been thinking.

“ **Holy shit** ,” he breathed out. Had he really been sitting here thinking about _when Methos got back_? Without even thinking about it, as if it were just some foregone conclusion, Tony had been sitting here _waiting for his captor to return_! And, for what? So Methos could take him again? So he could keep Tony with him?

 _Jesus, Stark, you’re in fucking deep._ That voice sounded a lot like Rhodey. It was easy to picture him, to imagine the worried yet stern look he’d be wearing on his face. _I don’t care how nice that asshole was to you – he kept you hostage. He raped you. He might’ve made you want it, but the point is, your choice was either fuck or die, and you chose the option that kept you alive. But now’s your chance to get out of here._

Tony closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. He knew Rhodey was right – or, more accurately, _he_ was right. Methos was gone, Kronos was gone – hopefully dead – and Silas and Caspian were far, far away from here. There were two horses nearby, both with supplies. And here Tony was sitting on the beach waiting for the guy who’d held him hostage to come back. Sure, he could try and justify that he was waiting to see who’d won, waiting to see who he had to run from, but did it really matter? He was going to have to run and hide no matter what. Might as well get as much of a head start as possible.

With that thought, Tony was pushing himself up off the ground on limbs that felt a whole lot steadier. Once he was upright, he cast one last, reluctant look back at the water. Then he straightened up and steeled himself.

When he turned towards the horses, he was once more Tony Stark.

He paused beside Kronos’s sword, even going so far as to bend down and touch it. But the instant he laid a hand on it, it felt like he’d dunked himself headfirst in grease. It slid against his skin, oily and disgusting, and clogged up his lungs until, gagging, he yanked his hand back. Tony found himself staring down at the blade with wide eyes. _What the hell was that_?

Eventually, he shook his head and rose back to his feet. He didn’t have time for this. There was no telling how soon Methos might return.

It was time to get the hell out of here.

* * *

_I thought about releasing Methos’ horse. Just letting it go and sending it off with a slap to the rump to get it running. But at the last second, I wasn’t able to bring myself to do it. Instead, I left it there for him, and I took Kronos’s horse instead. Then, without another backward glance, I ran._

_I ran as far and as fast as I could. With Kronos’s saddlebags, I had some supplies. A bit of clothes, some money. Things to at least get me started. Plus I had the basic understanding of two languages that I hoped were still in use somewhere. My plan was to run and hide, as deep as I could, and then try and find a way to get back to my friends and family._

_What I hadn’t counted on was running into some people along the way. A pair of twins who, it seemed, had been looking for me for quite some time._

_But…_

_That’s a story for another day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to stop Book 1 right here, and do the next part of Tony's story as Book 2. But now I'm thinking that I might go ahead and add it to this one, making this story a bit longer and getting us fully through Tony finding out what he is, and WHEN he is.
> 
> I'm sorry if updates on this story are slow. Honestly, the review for this so far doesn't seem to be all that positive, so I'm having a hard time motivating to get my notes into a semblance of chapters. I think this is the most underwhelming response I've ever gotten to anything before LOL Ah well, I do love the story, so I won't stop.
> 
> Let me know what you think! And, well, if there are any events in history that you'd love to see Tony a part of, let me know that, too! I'm always looking for what you'd like to see :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, words in BOLD are plain English. The rest of the time, Tony's speaking the language he learned in the Horsemen's camp

_It’s been said our lives are defined by moments. Personally, I’ve always believed it more accurate to say that our lives are defined by our choices within those moments._

_From the instant I’d arrived in that pile of sand, alone and terrified, I’d been forced to make a series of choices that would take me a long time and a lot of peace to come to terms with. I know that I haven’t really shown so far the deep emotional impact those choices had on me. I wrote about the Horsemen in terms both vague and blunt – it was the easiest way for me. The only way. My time with them was a mixture of pain and horror that wasn’t just spiritual. I walked away from them with fear in my heart, and hatred in my veins. For Kronos, who I hoped Methos killed. For Caspian, the sadist who took pleasure in breaking me down, who saw me as nothing more than a toy. For Silas, who may not have used me as painfully, but whose gentle sweetness made it all somehow worse._

_For Methos._

_God, the hatred I had for Methos._

_He broke me in ways the others hadn’t been able to. What made it worse – he made me like it. The cushion of time lets me admit that now._

_I could forgive his part in my capture. The situation was complex, and my impressions of Methos were of someone who was just as much captive as I, bound by an entirely different set of chains. The type which was not so easily broken, as he’d helped in the forging of them, not realizing the danger until it was too late, and he was already shackled down._

_For his part in that, I could forgive him. Not easily, but within time, I did. I even forgave him for the pain, the slaps, the degradation. The silence while I was hurt by others. In my time, we’ve studied psychology pretty deeply, and I’ve been in hostage situations with other captives before. I know what it’s like to look out only for yourself. Because who else can you trust? Everyone else just wants to hurt you. You’re the only one capable of keeping you safe. Right?_

_So yes, as much as it might shock you, whoever you are that’s reading this, I forgave Methos for those things. It took time, but I did it._

_What I can’t forgive was just how much he made me want what he did to me._

_Giving in to the pleasure to save my mind, that was one thing. It made me feel dirty, and a bit sick, but I had people to help me reconcile that need to survive with the passivity I showed the others. But with Methos, I hadn’t just given in. I’d embraced it, allowed it, pushing back and taking more. I’d reveled in the pain and pleasure mix, to the point of finding my release in it. That – that I’m not sure I can ever forgive him for._

_My rage at the Horsemen, at Methos, kept me running after I left that beach. There was fear there as well, the fear of being caught, being taken back, but I was far more comfortable with the rage. It kept me going, kept me moving. It was what put me on the path to meeting two people that were going to change my life._

_Unfortunately, it also made me a bit of an ass when I first met them, so there’s that, too…_

* * *

The forests in the distance had to be one of the most beautiful sights that Tony had ever seen. After so long in the desert, and so long running through it, seeing something other than sand was almost enough to have him sobbing outright. Hands tightening on the reins he held, he nudged the mare that direction, and the two took off.

Even as they ran, Tony knew they wouldn’t be able to run far. Not him, and not his horse, either. He’d pushed her – pushed both of them – not just to their limits, but beyond. Days of hard riding had taken Tony far away from that empty beach. Away from two men whom he didn’t know if they were even alive or dead now. Tony forced those thoughts down; forced himself not to think about it. If he did, the fear in his stomach might rise up, and Tony couldn’t afford to be afraid. He couldn’t afford to be weak. Not while he was still in this strange world, with no idea where to go or what to do, or if he was even on Earth anymore…

Tony clenched his teeth and ruthlessly shoved that thought away.

He needed to find somewhere to stop for the night. His mare – who he’d been mentally calling Friggitello in his head, the name of a sweet Italian chili pepper, because her feistiness reminded him of another Pepper he knew – needed the rest. And Tony’s body might have quick healing, but that didn’t do anything for the fatigue, or the fear, or the minimal food and water he was able to have. They needed rest, and they would get it, just as soon as they were in the shelter of the trees.

Tony didn’t let himself stop once they got inside, no matter how badly he wanted to. First, he nudged Friggi in further, needing to go deeper, get just that little bit more away from the sand.

Finally, though, it was too much to keep going. They needed their rest. He steered Friggi towards a tight knot of trees where he could tie her up, and maybe prop himself up against the trunk for a little while, get some rest. God, he needed to rest! It was either that, or he’d start falling asleep on Friggi’s back. As it was, getting them set up in their makeshift camp was done in a daze. Tony barely remembered doing it. Just that one moment he was bringing them to a stop, and the next he was curled up on the ground underneath a small blanket, with Friggi tied to a tree and the bag at Tony’s side. She’d been taken care of, brushed, even given some of the water. She needed it far more than Tony. He’d survive – even if he died from lack of water, he’d still technically survive.

Those few things took the very last of his strength. Exhaustion had hold of him, and he couldn’t fight it any longer. Curled against the trunk of a tree, he fell deep down into sleep.

* * *

The sun had moved by the time Tony woke again. It was edging towards evening, the hottest part of the day now done with. He wasn’t quite sure what woke him. His stomach, perhaps. It was twisting angrily at him and demanding he give it something.

Images flashed through his mind of a bowl on the ground, and Kronos laughing as he nudged Tony to move, to _crawl_ …

 _NO_!

Tony shoved off the tree and sucked in a breath. No, he wasn’t going to think about that, wasn’t going to feel it. No way would he allow himself to feel it. While with them, it’d been easy to not think, to just do what was necessary to survive, and not let the pain of it touch him. Now that he was free, his defenses were trying to come down, and he couldn’t afford that. Not yet! Not until he was home, and safe, and there was no one around but JARVIS to see him.

The thought of JARVIS had Tony closing his eyes. The faint burn of tears pressed against the backs of his eyes. That was yet another thing Tony hadn’t allowed himself to think of while with the Horsemen. His child, his family. What was happening to them while Tony was gone? Were they okay? Was someone coming in to check on JARVIS or the bots? They didn’t do well being alone. JARVIS especially. Sure, he would watch over SI for Tony, but without someone around to look after and worry for, what would he do? He wasn’t made to stand idle. That didn’t work for him.

Then again, Tony had been gone quite a while. If it’d been long enough – Tony had a hard time remembering just how long it’d been sometimes – there was a good chance JARVIS had enacted Protocol: Adoption. In the event of Tony once more going missing for an extended period of time, like when he’d been in Afghanistan, JARVIS had a whole set of protocols to make sure that he and the bots would be taken care of. There were more that would go into effect if Tony were gone for a year.

 _They’ll be taken care of_ , Tony reminded himself. _JARVIS knows what to do. He’ll make sure they’re taken care of. I’m sorry, buddy. I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I miss you_.

There was every chance Tony could’ve fallen down into the spiral of those dark thoughts if something hadn’t suddenly grabbed his attention. A prickling sensation ran along Tony’s skin, and it had him going still. It felt like warm fingers that ran up his spine before clasping the back of his neck. _Listen_ , it seemed to tell him in that touch. _Look_.

Tony lifted his head, only he didn’t get the chance to truly look, because in that instant a rather familiar buzz filled his mind. One that had him reacting without thinking.

In a flash Tony was up and on his feet, scrambling towards Friggi. Inside of him pulsed a need to _go, get out of here, go now, go fast, don’t let them catch you! Don’t let them take you!_ That buzz, he knew that buzz. It was the same one he got every time one of the Horsemen was around. The one that told him they were coming close, or, if he let himself look closely, sometimes told him how they felt before they’d even reached him.

Tony was grateful that he hadn’t bothered unpacking much. He grabbed his bags and quickly reattached them to the saddle. _How did they find me_? His mind was screaming. And, louder, _Which one is it? Is it Methos? Kronos? Caspian? Silas? All of them?_ He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out. Trembling legs carried Tony towards Friggi’s head. There, he hurried to untie her, even as he was grabbing her bridle and rubbing at her face. “ **I’m sorry, girl. I know that wasn’t enough rest, but we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here before they get any closer**.”

There was a soft noise that signaled someone’s approach. The buzzing grew louder, and Tony began to mentally curse in every language he knew.

It took two tries to get him up in the saddle. Once he was there, he didn’t bother to try and be quiet. No doubt they knew he was here already; they’d have felt him, the same as he felt them. Without hesitation, Tony jabbed his heels in and cried out a loud “Hah!” that sent Friggi rearing and running.

Friggi must’ve felt Tony’s desperation. She ran as fast as she was able, weaving through trees and jumping over logs. Tony held on with everything he had, leaning low over her neck to urge her faster and faster. The buzz wasn’t going away – they were following him. Tony could feel it as they slowly started to gain on him.

Then that feeling was back on Tony’s neck, those warm fingers clasping there, and Tony felt it as they pushed down, shoving him low. He followed that touch without thinking. A good thing, too. The arrow that might’ve hit him square in the back ended up going through his shoulder instead. It didn’t kill him – but the pain of it had Tony letting out a shout, and his whole left arm went numb. He lost his grip on the reins and his balance. Friggi’s next jump was enough to send Tony flying.

He hit the ground with a painful thud that jostled his whole body. Tony’s head slammed into something hard, and the world went dark. All he could think of as he faded away was a long, low _No, not again!_

* * *

Tony woke to pain in his head, and a familiar woozy sensation, and almost immediately started cursing. Goddammit, this was getting old! How many times now since he’d come here had he been knocked out, shot, or stabbed, and had to wake back up to an aching, healing body?

A small shift made Tony groan lowly. Okay, not completely healing. It felt like the arrow was still in his shoulder. He was going to have to get that out before he did anything else. Otherwise, he was going to be pretty damn useless.

At least this time it felt like he hadn’t been taken anywhere while unconscious or dead. Judging by what he was lying on, Tony was still on the forest floor. He could feel grass and branches, and a bit of sand, as well as hear the noises of the forest around him. There was also the sound of horses – at least three, he judged – and the voices of two people.

“What’d you do that for?” a woman was demanding furiously.

Another voice – male this time – answered her. “You know as well as I that he wouldn’t stop. Fear wouldn’t allow it. We’ve come this far, Tami. I will not lose him again.”

“So you _shoot_ him? That’s not going to inspire trust! He will be angry, and rightfully so. If he shoots or stabs you in return, it will be no more than you are due!”

Whoever the voices belonged to, they bickered like an old married couple, or like siblings, Tony couldn’t quite be sure. It also sounded like they didn’t want to play _bad guy_ with him. The talk of _trust_ implied that they might be good guys, though why they’d shoot him then he didn’t know, or they wanted something from him and thought that sugar would work better than the stick.

There was one way to find out.

When Tony opened his eyes, it took a moment to focus them. He waited until they finally cleared, and he was able to see that he really was still in the forest right where he’d fell, before he lifted his head. More than his head, really. With his bad arm on his chest, Tony braced his other on the ground and slowly, painfully, began to leverage himself up. The movement, as well as the sound of his grunts and groans, was enough to draw the attention of the two people nearby.

Tilting his head up once he was upright, Tony took in the ones who’d shot at him, and who were now standing almost nervously by the three horses. Absently, Tony took note of the fact that Friggi had returned, and the relief he felt at that. The rest of his focus was on the two humans. Both of whom very clearly gave off that same buzz that Methos and the others had.

They were tanned, he noted, and human looking. Both had dark hair in tons of small braids that ran to their shoulders or longer, and they shared the exact same big brown eyes. Even the same curve of their mouths. They wore sheer white robes that were belted on, hers coming up over both shoulders while his sat over only one. With the light clothes, it was easy to see a very similar body shape – thin and not too short, but not too tall.

 _Twins_. Tony had slept with enough twins – female/female, male/female, even male/male – to recognize that kind of mirroring.

So, not a married couple, then. Siblings.

His appraisal of them hadn’t gone unnoticed. The two stood there and allowed him his chance to look them over from the top of their heads down to the bottom of their boots. Tony had to admit, they were an interesting cross between some of that Egyptian stuff he’d seen on TV, and the leather and warrior look the Horsemen had used.

By the time Tony brought his gaze back up to their faces, he’d recovered enough to be able to pull up his masks. Lips quirked up into a smirk, chin up, as much cold amusement in his eyes as he could manage. He lounged there like he wasn’t still bleeding from an arrow to the shoulder. “Well, isn’t this fun? You know, you two have an odd way of making friends.”

The man spread his hands out in a gesture of peace. It made it easy for Tony to see that he wasn’t holding any weapons, nor did he seem to have any on his person. He took a step forward and spoke in a low, deep voice, with a heavy accent that made the words harder to understand. _Different dialect, maybe?_ Still, Tony got the gist of it. “My name is Tavi, and this is my sister, Tami. We mean you no harm. We wish simply to speak with you.”

“Oh, yes, that makes sense. Because _I_ shoot everyone I want to speak with,” Tony said dryly. To his surprise, the woman, Tami, seemed to be hiding a smile behind her hand.

Tavi’s eyes flicked down to the arrow and then back up to Tony’s face. “My apologies. I knew of no other way to break your fear long enough to stop you.”

Just the mention of Tony’s fear was enough to have him lifting his chin. He may not have much left in life right now, but dammit, he had his pride! He also had a mouth that didn’t know when to _shut up_. Tony didn’t even realize he was going to speak until he found himself saying “Like what you see?” Deliberately, Tony let his legs fall open, knowing the skirt he still stupidly wore would leave little to the imagination. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to pull up a leer, too.

No longer was Tami hiding a smile. Her hand dropped from her mouth down to her throat and pressed there, and her expression was pained.

Tavi was different. His eyes were sharp and old, staying firmly on Tony’s face in a disconcerting way. “Could you even bear for us to touch you in such a way without emptying your stomach?”

That blunt question worked like a bucket of cold water. It called up images of these two touching him, feeling him – something Tony would’ve enjoyed quite a bit, a few months ago – and it took everything Tony had not to throw up what little food was in his stomach. A chill ran along his skin. Tony drew his legs closed without realizing it and hunched himself inward. Making as small a target as possible.

Over him, Tami shot her brother a fierce, furious look, to which he had the good grace to hunch his head down in shame. “Enough,” Tami said firmly.

Tony looked up in time to see her step around Tavi and move towards him. She didn’t move as if she were afraid of him. Nor did she act like he should be afraid of her. Calm and confident, Tami closed the distance between them, and she didn’t hesitate to kneel on the ground at his side once she got there. There was gentleness in her eyes that left Tony unable to speak or look away. All he could do was stare up at her as she brushed his hair back from his face. “You have our apologies, Tony Stark, for what has been done to you. Both now, and on the road that brought you to this place.”

There was a gentle promise to those words that Tony felt straight down to his soul. What the hell was this? Who was this girl?

Realization struck like lightning, and Tony’s eyes went wide. “My name,” he breathed out. “You said my name.” _You know who I am._

Tami gave a small dip of her head; a barely-there nod. “Yes. We’ve Seen your coming for quite some time now.”

“Seen?” Tony turned that over and around in his mind. What on earth did she mean, _seen?_ The only thing that jumped to mind was something that couldn’t possibly be true. _Oh, what, you mean like immortality isn’t true, or instant healing, or guys that turn into giant green dudes, or alien gods, or just aliens in general?_ Tony’s inner voice snarked at him. Considering the superpowered people he knew, as well as the mutants, could he really rail against visions? Even if the idea of it _did_ go against the grain. It was something that science couldn’t quite explain, and that was always frustrating to a mind like Tony’s.

The tender way she was suddenly looking at him said she’d guessed at his thoughts. “There are many things that the minds of men cannot explain.” Then she abruptly straightened up a bit, and she shook her head, a stern look settling onto her face. It made her appear older. This was a woman who was confident in herself, and who wasn’t afraid of that confidence. That was definitely a trait Tony could appreciate. “This is not the time nor the place to explain such things,” she told him. “Come, let us take care of my brother’s foolishness, and then we can ride for camp. There, I believe we’ll have much to share with you, Tony Stark.”

Just going off with these two was a monumentally stupid idea. Tony knew that. He wasn’t going to just trust random strangers, even if they _did_ know his name. Plenty of people out there knew his name – not by any supposed mystic power, either – and they rarely ever meant him well. These guys had _shot him_! That wasn’t a rousing recommendation for trusting them.

And yet… and yet Tony found himself nodding at her. He found himself sitting up with Tami bracing him while Tavi braced a knee against his back and warned him “I have to cut the arrowhead off. Once I do that, I’ll be able to pull it free, and your healing will take care of the rest.” Then his hand was on the arrowhead, and Tami was bracing the front, and Tony got one last warning of “This will hurt” before the pain slammed into him like a fist.

Tony bit down on the leather-wrapped stick that Tami had shoved into his mouth. It was the only thing that kept him from screaming for the whole forest to hear. Clenching his hands into the ground and biting at the stick until he was sure it was going to snap under the pressure, Tony rode out the pain as the arrowhead was cut away, and as Tami firmly grabbed the shaft and yanked what was left of the arrow out of him.

The release of the arrow also served as a release of the pain. Though it still throbbed, the sharp agony of moments before was gone, and Tony slumped down into their holds, panting heavily.

He spat the stick out to the side, not bothering to move his head from where it was resting against Tami’s shoulder. “Well,” he panted out. “That was fun. But maybe next time let’s skip that part, hm? Send me a letter if you want to talk. Or a carrier pigeon. I’m not really that picky.”

The shoulder he was leaning against shook a bit with Tami’s low, husky laugh. “I wish I could say this will never happen again. However, I have learned to make no such promises where my brother is concerned.”

“You’re really selling the whole reassuring bit here, **gorgeous** ,” Tony grumbled. The pain was already starting to fade, thankfully. The sharper edges were almost gone now, leaving behind a deep kind of ache that was bearable. He could live with it. He could function around it. He could also, it would seem, start to ramble once more, a trait he kind of wished had stayed subdued a little while longer. Telling a girl, “Though I’ve got to say, you make a pretty awesome **pillow** ” while wiggling his eyebrows against her shoulder was _probably_ not the smartest thing in the world, especially with her twin brother nearby. A brother who had already proved he wasn’t afraid to stab Tony with painfully annoying arrows.

To his immense relief, neither twin seemed offended. That might’ve been because Tony didn’t know the word for ‘pillow’ and had been forced to use the English version. Or it might’ve just been because they were strange people. Who knew?

“Come,” Tavi said, clapping a hand down on Tony’s – thank God – good shoulder. “If we wish to reach camp before nightfall, we should prepare to leave.”

Tony debated telling them that he wasn’t going anywhere with them. After all, now that the arrow was out, he was a whole lot better off than he had been. He’d stand a better chance of fighting back. And Tony _would_ fight back. He wasn’t going to become anyone’s slave again.

He just – he didn’t get the feeling of _threat_ from either one of them. Sure, Tavi had _fucking shot him_. But, well, how many people had shot at Tony before? He couldn’t exactly rule out a friendship just because of that. And they’d fixed it now, after all. Plus… from the sounds of it, they had answers. The kind of answers that Tony needed.

He could either ride on and hope that he’d find someone nice who might be able to help answer his questions, and who understood him and whatever language it was he spoke now, or he could take his chances that these people here might honestly want to help him. They knew his language, knew his _name_ , and they didn’t set off any of the ‘oh fuck, bad’ vibes that the Horsemen had.

Tony made his body move, drawing back from Tami and straightening himself up. He shrugged off the hands that reached to help him – not wanting the touch anymore, not now that he was aware enough of it for his skin to crawl – and gathered together what remained of his control.

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” Tony said, flashing them his brightest smile. If he were going to do this, he’d be damned if he’d do it cowering against them. He wasn’t meek little Anthon anymore.

He was Tony Stark, and he wasn’t going to let himself forget that again any time soon.

* * *

_Deciding to ride away with Tami and Tavi was a decision that, even now, I still can’t believe I made. Tami would say that there were outside forces that were steering me in the direction I needed to go. That they helped me to understand that the twins were no threat to me and that I’d be safe with them. I’m not quite sure I believe that. Even after what I’ve learned from them, I’m not sure I can believe something that simple or that innocent._

_Honestly, I think a part of me might’ve just been too damn tired to fight. I put up a good front for them, but I was tired, straight down to my marrow, and still more fragile inside than I liked to admit to. I was trying to push on and keep going despite the past few months. I was determined to prove that the Horsemen hadn’t beaten me completely. That was I still my own man._

_Whatever it was that inspired me to go with the two that day, it was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. I rode with them back to their camp in almost complete silence. They didn’t speak to me, and I wasn’t ready to speak to them. Not when I was still processing my own fear and worries and so many other things. So, I rode a quiet few hours with them, plotting and planning behind their backs, until finally, we reached camp._

* * *

They were still in the forest when they finally came to a halt. It was a clearing of some sort that had been carefully set up with a large tent, plus a pit already prepared for the fire. As they rode in, Tony led Friggi after the other two, stopping when they did by a set of trees right at the edge of the camp.

It felt so strange to be setting up camp with these two. Mostly, Tony hated to realize, because he was actually setting up camp _with_ them. Tami was getting a fire going while Tavi tossed a tent-pack to Tony, using his chin to gesture to the open space nearby. The motions of setting up a tent were easy and familiar; Tony had no problem doing it practically on autopilot. Once he had it set up, he grabbed his stuff from the back of Friggi and tossed them inside. He didn’t have any furs or blankets or anything like that, but he’d make do.

Once he was done, Tony went out to help the twins. Or, that was his plan. Tony found he had to fight more than once to keep from simply taking over tasks that had become almost as natural as breathing to him. Tony had to remind himself repeatedly that he didn’t have to serve here. That they didn’t expect it of him. Realizing just how deeply ingrained his…his _training_ had become was like a physical blow. One that left him reeling.

Bless them, the twins undoubtedly noticed, judging by the understanding way they looked at him, but they didn’t comment on it. Tami just gestured for Tony to join her at the fire she’d started, while Tavi set about tossing a few things into a pot that was then set over the fire.

“Come,” Tami said, patting the log next to her. It was the first time one of them had spoken in a while, and Tony startled at the sound, limbs twitching as if to brace himself. Tami saw the gesture, and her smiled softened. “We have much to talk about. I imagine you have questions.”

 _She’s not going to hurt you!_ Tony mentally snapped at himself. He pushed away the part of himself that wanted to go down to his knees behind the log, where he was usually forced to sit while the Horsemen ate. Sometimes he’d be in Silas’s lap if he was in a good mood. Otherwise, they kept him out of sight, if not out of mind. _But these two aren’t them! So quit whining, suck it up, and go sit the fuck down_.

Tony licked his lips as he made his way forward. He pulled on the masks he’d gotten so much better at this past month, and he used that control to flash a small smile Tami’s way. “You could say that, **sweetheart**.”

A snort came from Tavi as he dropped himself down onto the diagonal from them, putting him close to Tami without being right next to her. “Quit playing with my sister.”

“Why? Would you rather I play with you?” Tony sank down onto the log as he leered at the other man.

Tavi gave him a look that would’ve been considered pitying if it hadn’t been edged with so much smugness. “Star, you couldn’t handle me.”

Any further playing was cut off by Tami. “Boys.” A smile played at her lips and ruined the stern look she was trying for. Still, it was enough to silence both of them, and she let the sternness fade away, and her smile take over. Turning her attention to Tony, she folded her arms over her lap and fixed those big, beautiful eyes right on him, making him think once again how he wished he’d met her when he was just a little less broken. “I apologize for my brother. It’s not often he finds himself someone to banter with.”

Tony waved a hand negligently through the air. “Bring it on, big boy. It’s been a while since I’ve had some good banter.” _At least the kind that doesn’t come with a risk of being slapped or stabbed if I go too far._ Not even an eye twitch gave away that thought. Tony smirked over at Tavi, who was watching him almost as carefully as Tami was. He ignored the way they were watching him and focused instead on the whole reason he was here. “How about we start with some information first, and save the playtime for later, though? Cause I have to say, I’m a little bit curious about what it is you two seem to think you know. While I’m used to people knowing my name, I get the feeling you two didn’t pick up an Entertainment Weekly and see my gorgeous face there.”

“My sister and I dreamt of your coming a long, long time ago,” Tavi said. He leaned forward in his seat, elbows coming to rest on his knees, and those dark eyes were sharp on Tony’s face. They studied there for a moment before the man gave a small nod. “No more word games. My sister and I are over five hundred years old, Anthony Stark, and we’ve been Dreaming about you since before our First Death.”

Shock had Tony’s eyes going wide. His mouth even fell open a little. He had to be joking! _Five hundred years old_?

They didn’t give Tony time to stew in his disbelief or to snap out questions at them. Tami took up the story, and Tony found he could only sit there and listen. “I imagine you’ve learned some of what it is to be like us from the Horsemen, but I doubt they took the time to explain much.”

“I know I heal, really fast,” Tony said slowly. His mind was racing, taking this new bit of information and adding it to the rest. “And I know I don’t die easily. There was something about cutting off our heads, but I wasn’t sure…” At the grim look that past between the twins, Tony gaped. “Seriously?”

Tami nodded at him. “We are Immortals, blessed by the Gods to live an eternal life. After our First Death, our bodies do not age. Nor do they die.”

“At least not for long,” Tavi cut in. “You _can_ die, make no mistake on that. But so long as your head is left attached to your body, you’ll heal from any injury. To truly kill another Immortal requires that you take their head – and, in doing so, you take their power as well. It is what is called a Quickening.”

Tony’s head felt like it was spinning with everything he was learning here. He was frozen, staring back and forth between the two, terrified and yet strangely fascinated by it all. It was like some fairytale come to life here. Only, more like the original fairytales. The ones full of rape and murder. When the hell had Tony’s life started to read like a dark old book? _About the time you flew through a magical wormhole into outer space._

Leaning forward, Tavi used a spoon to stir whatever he was cooking in the pot. Though he watched what he was doing, a careful look showed he was peeking up through his lashes at Tony. Watching him take it all in. “A Quickening is all the power an Immortal possesses inside them. Some are born with naturally more power to them than others. The longer we are alive, and the more heads we take, the stronger our Quickening becomes. When you take the Quickening of another, you take not only their power, but their knowledge as well, and their strength. They become a part of you.”

“Why the hell would someone go around taking other people’s heads?” Tony demanded. Though, he could already see it. _Power_. Humans were always lured in by the promise of power.

That wasn’t the answer they gave, though. Without looking at one another, Tami and Tavi both said “The Game.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. Leaning forward – he’d forgotten his nerves at some point, no longer feeling the need to keep himself as far back from them as possible – he looked from one face to another. “The Game?”

And that was where things got strange. Tony sat on the log in the middle of this unknown forest and listened avidly as Tami and Tavi explained to him all about _The Game_ : a conflict between Immortals – a compulsion, it sounded like, which many believed couldn’t be denied – that forced them to fight in a series of elimination duels. The point, they told him, was simple. “There can be only one.” One day, after the time of the Gathering when all remaining Immortals would face off, only one Immortal would remain. That sole survivor would be the one to win the Prize. What that Prize was, no one seemed to know, though Tami told him there were theories. Plenty of theories.

“There are rules to the Game,” Tavi told him, as Tony just sat there and tried to process this strange and fucked-up story they were telling him. Tavi was pulling the food off the fire as he spoke, casually setting it down on a rock and then spooning it into three bowls. “We fight in Challenges, issued from one Immortal to another, and no other may interfere. It is sword against sword – no other weapons allowed.”

“We do not fight on Holy Ground,” Tami said. She took one of the bowls that Tavi handed her and passed it down to Tony. It took him a second to make himself move to take it. Smiling, Tami settled down with her own bowl. “Holy Ground is our one safe spot. There, no one can Challenge you, and no one can take your head. There, you are safe.”

 _Holy shit_. The more they spoke, the crazier it all seemed! Tony knew he probably looked like an idiot with just how much he was gaping at them, yet he couldn’t help it. “This is insane.”

Tavi shrugged one shoulder, settling back down into his seat with his own bowl in hands. “It is what it is.”

“You’re telling me that you two are _five hundred years old_ , and you’ve stayed alive by cutting off the heads of others like you and taking in their power,” Tony said slowly. Just repeating it out loud like that only served to make it sound all the crazier.

“Yes and no,” Tami answered him. “We haven’t spent our lifetime going around simply killing others. Though some believe the Game is a part of us, and that we are compelled to play it, others – like us – believe that it is a choice.”

Tavi nodded his agreement. Then he lifted his wooden spoon and used it to point at Tony. “Do no doubt that we’ve taken heads. We’ve stayed alive this long because we are skilled, and we know when those skills need to be used. But we choose not to play. Most of our time has been spent in our house, which was built on very old Holy Ground. Old enough that few would even recognize it as such until standing directly upon it.”

“My brother and I have a greater purpose on this Earth than to play in the games of others.”

“And what’s that?” Tony found himself asking.

A slow, soft smile curved Tami’s lips. “You.”

Tony froze, his bowl lifted halfway to his mouth. Holding very still, he arched one eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Tavi said, bringing Tony’s eyes to him. The earlier teasing on his face had faded away to make room for an expression that was a whole lot more serious. It was one that Tony found he couldn’t look away from. “We told you, we Dreamed of your coming a long time ago. Even before we became Immortal, we knew our destiny wasn’t to play the Game – it was to find _you_. To save you, and to train you.”

“Train me for what?”

“To win.” Tami set her bowl down before she turned herself towards Tony. With one hand, she reached out and lightly clasped his arm. The touch was so very small and yet it felt like it burned through Tony’s skin. His words dried up in his throat. He stared up at her, and she smiled down at him. “You’ve traveled far to get to us, and you have further still to travel. It is our destiny to be in this place, at this time, to help you. To set your feet upon your path and give you the tools with which to defend yourself until such a time as you face _your_ destiny.”

“You’re the only one that has a chance of stopping a great darkness in our future, Tony Stark,” Tavi said lowly. “There is a creature who seeks to destroy this world, and every other world out there. You saw a glimpse of it when you flew into the sky. You saw the army that waited there. The one you know as Loki was a ghost, nothing more. A being on a string held by far stronger hands.”

Oh fuck. _Oh fuck_. Tony’s hands shook so hard the bowl fell from them, yet he didn’t notice. In his mind he saw that wormhole again – the spaceships that had waited on the other side. He could feel the power out there, feel it as he fell. And there was something else, something he had no name for, yet it seemed to be twisting and turning inside of him as if to say _yes, yes, of course, it was never about Loki, never about him ruling Earth, there’s more to this, so much more_. “Who?” Tony croaked out. It was all he could manage to force past the lump in his throat. The _fear_.

“He is Thanos: a creature who seeks to destroy the world as a gesture of love to his lady, Death,” Tami said.

Just hearing that name was enough to jolt Tony. His eyes grew even wider. “Death?”

Before he could work himself up too much, the twins were shaking their heads. “Not the Death you know,” Tami reassured him. “For him, it’s only a name. For her, it’s her truth. She is Lady Death. And this creature seeks to court her by offering her as much death as he can.”

“ **Jesus fuck.** ”

This was – it was too much information. Too much for Tony to take in. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on his feet pacing away from them. “This is insane.” It felt good to say the words out loud, so Tony repeated them, louder this time. “This is insane!” Spinning, he pointed a finger at the two people still sitting there, watching him. “You two are insane! You expect me to believe all this?” Turning away from them again, he flung his hands up in the air and paced away once more. “Immortals, this stupid Game, Quickenings, and now, now _this_?”

“I know it is a lot to take in…” Tami started to say.

Tony cut her off with a sharp laugh. “Yeah, you could say that, **sweetheart**.” With hands that shook far too much for his comfort, Tony pushed his hair back and then took a moment to rub at his face. “You’re telling me that I’m Immortal now, and part of a Game that sounds so _stupid_ , and also _hey_ , there’s this giant dude Thanos is coming to destroy the earth, so might want to get on stopping that, right?” Snorting, he dropped his hands back down. He couldn’t help saying, one last time: “This is insane.”

“This is your Destiny,” Tavi said. He pushed up from his seat, his bowl set off to the side, and he met Tony’s gaze across their campsite without a flicker of fear. Pride and determination lit his face. “The Gods have decided that you are our only hope at surviving this, Tony Stark. They sent you here – to this place, to this time. To us.”

This time Tony’s laugh was harsh and bitter enough to make the twins flinch. “They sent me here? Great job they did there. Couldn’t have picked a better place to let me land.” Then the rest of what Tavi had said started to sink in, and Tony went completely and utterly still. _No, it can’t be_. It was… it’d been one of the things that Tony had thought about, albeit in a sort of joking way. But… was it possible?

Wide-eyed once more, he looked up at Tavi, the one who so far had seemed to give the bluntest answers to things. “This time?” Tony repeated slowly. “You said I was sent to this place, to this time. What do you mean, this _time_?”

The way those dark eyes went sad was almost enough to crack through Tony’s control. He held very still, fighting against a sensation that was threatening to break him apart if he looked too closely at it. Tony refused to look; he kept still and stared at Tavi, waiting.

Tavi’s eyes gentled a little more. Some of the tension drained out of him, and there was apology already clear on his face. “We do not understand time as you see it,” Tavi said slowly. “Your definition of it isn’t the same as ours. I know not how far back you’ve gone, but the Gods have sent you back. They’ve granted you the gift of time, to be better able to plan and prepare. So long as you survive.”

That was like the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. The last tiny bit of information that was finally one piece too many. Tony had learned so much tonight, been forced to take in so much, and this was just… he was done.

He didn’t even think about it. Faced with everything he’d just learned, Tony did the only thing he could do.

He ran.


	6. Chapter 6

_I spent hours walking around the forest that night. I didn’t go far – I stayed within sensing range of the two Immortals. No matter how panicked I was, I wasn’t stupid_ . _Getting far away from them wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. If someone came upon me, or if the very people I was running from somehow found me, I wanted to be within sensing range for them. Pathetic though it made me feel, I knew I wasn’t strong enough to really defend myself. Especially without a weapon._

_I stayed out until it was fully dark, and the cold was enough to drive me back towards the campsite. Then and only then did I let myself go back. I’d started to process things, but there was so much more I needed to think about, and that was the only time I could even come close to being alone._

* * *

There was a rock right at the edge of their camp that Tony set himself up on. It was away from the tents, while still being close enough for him to feel the other two Immortals, and it also provided a few trees at his back to help him feel like he wasn’t just open and exposed. _Talk about PTSD_ , he thought to himself. _If I didn’t have it before, I sure do now._ But hey, sort of bright side? At least it sounded like he’d have plenty of time to work through it.

Tony ducked his head down and smothered the laugh that he knew would come out sounding far too broken and bitter. _Time_. It was a concept Tony had always hated – there never seemed to be enough of it when he needed it, and too much of it when he wished there wasn’t. Now, it looked like he was going to have plenty. A seemingly endless supply of it.

So long as he could keep his head, that is.

This whole thing was insane. Immortality, this ridiculous Game, time travel. Fucking _time travel_. That was the one that Tony was having the hardest time wrapping his brain around.

In a way, he’d already started to accept the whole Immortal business. He’d had months to come to terms with that in the darkest of ways at the Horsemen’s camp. There, Tony had learned about his healing, about his ability to die, and even at the very end about needing to cut off another’s head. What he hadn’t known were the rules that went along with it. The protection that Holy Ground offered, the so-called Game every Immortal was playing, the rules to Challenges. Tami and Tavi had given him those, and for that, Tony was grateful. Even if he thought some of it sounded stupid.

Shivering, Tony drew his blanket around himself better. When he’d first sat down, he’d snagged this from the bag left at his tent, knowing he’d probably need it. The desert could get so surprisingly cold at night. Yet he welcomed the chill now. It kept his body awake, and his mind sharp. Right now there were too many things to think about for him to sleep.

He needed to ask more questions. Like – was this ‘no fighting on Holy Ground’ just a _rule_ , or was there something more to it? Were they physically incapable of fighting there? Or was it just something that everyone accepted and followed along with? Because that was an important distinction. Or – were these Challenges always one-on-one? Were there ever _groups_?

There were countless questions that Tony’s brain came up with. He couldn’t help analyzing the whole thing. Yet, even as he did, he knew it was more than that. He was distracting himself from the one thing that he really, really didn’t want to think about.

 _Time travel_.

When Tony had worried about where that wormhole had spat him out, he’d been thinking more of a _where_ not a _when_. He could rationalize how something like that would take him to a different place. But… to a different _time_?

Theoretically, it made sense. Tony had read about wormholes before – and he’d studied a great deal that night when he’d read up on Loki, including some of Jane Foster’s work on Einstein-Rosen bridges – and he’d learned even more when he and Bruce were studying things trying to figure out the machine Loki wanted to build. Seeing the giant wormhole open up in the sky had taken a lot of those theories and made them facts.

Wormholes were essentially two different points in space and time that were connected together. When a bridge between them was opened, the theory had always been that one would be able to step from one place directly into another. Tony had seen the truth of that as he’d watched aliens fly in from space, and again as he had flown up there.

But, the space between those two points existed, even if they were folded in on each other. If, when the wormhole had been closed, Tony wasn’t caught on either side of it but actually _in_ it, he would’ve been trapped into a void of space and time. A… between place, so to speak. Jane had written about the possibility of such. She’d called it ‘the Void’ in her work. According to her – and what Tony was able to read between the lines enough to realize she’d gotten from Thor – the Void was an endless expanse of nothing and yet _everything_ that existed all around the Nine Realms.

If that was what Tony had been caught up in, could he honestly be all that surprised that he’d not only been thrown to a different place but a different time as well?

Honestly, he should be more surprised that he’d somehow survived at all.

A low nickering sound interrupted Tony’s thoughts. He looked up to find that Friggi had come closer to him. Tony had sat semi-close to the horses, just for comfort, and Friggi took advantage of that now to step up to him and butt her head against his shoulder. Instinctively, Tony brought his hand up to let her sniff at before he brought it higher, rubbing along her muzzle up towards her ears. Friggi dropped her head down to give Tony easier access, and he smiled as he scratched at that spot behind her left ear he’d learned she liked so much. “Hey there, pretty girl,” Tony murmured to her. “What’re you doing up, hm? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“She senses your distress.”

The sound of Tavi’s voice had Tony’s body going completely still. He’d learned not to jump; instead, his body locked down, bracing for trouble. The only part of him that moved were his eyes. They went up, past Friggi’s head, to where Tavi was calmly making his way towards them.

He saw Tony’s reaction and stopped mid-step. Slowly, drawing his foot back, the other man went still. The look on his face was hard to read in the moonlight, but it seemed to soften a little. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Fear had set Tony’s heart pounding, and it brought a foul taste to the back of his throat. He pushed it down and forced himself to shake his head. “You didn’t. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

If Tavi noticed the way that Tony’s hands shook as he began to scratch Friggi again, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he turned his attention to Friggi, who was calmly standing there letting Tony scratch at her. “Horses are very empathic creatures,” Tavi said, moving once more. He kept Tavi between them, making sure that she’d see his approach yet not moving to step around her. “They sense far more than humans do. She senses your distress and comforts you the only way she knows how. Not that it’s hard, mind you.” Dark, slightly amused eyes met Tony’s over Friggi’s head. “You’re broadcasting your distress to any with the ability to feel. Maybe even those without.”

Sarcasm and humor had always been Tony’s go-to reaction for emotional situations. Now wasn’t any different. “So sorry I disturbed your sleep, **Princess**.”

He was surprised when Tavi laughed. Delight lit his eyes and curved over his full lips, making an already attractive face even more handsome. Tony had always been attracted to pretty people, especially ones with that hint of mischief to them. “I knew I would like you. Ever since we had our first Dream of you, I knew we would either fight or become fast friends. I’m pleased to see it might be a bit of both.”

“Okay, yeah, see, this whole dreaming-of-me thing?” Tony lifted one hand off of Friggi to wiggle his fingers towards the other man. “I wouldn’t recommend telling people that when you first meet them. Kind of gives off this…” Pausing, he searched for the word he wanted. What was an equivalent of _creepy_? After a second he gave a mental shrug. “Let’s just say it’s not the best look.”

“You would prefer us to lie to you?”

“I’d prefer not to be caught up in some great big ball of **mystical mumbo-jumbo** ,” Tony shot back.

“I’m going to assume that wasn’t something flattering.” Smirking a little, Tavi shifted his weight to the left and took a step around Friggi. Only, before Tony or Friggi could react, the man folded himself down to sit cross-legged on the ground. It put him below Tony, and in an entirely unthreatening position, which it annoyed Tony to realize actually helped him relax a bit more. Tavi didn’t comment on it, or on the scowl that twisted Tony’s lips. He folded his hands in his lap and kept on smirking up at Tony. “I understand this is a lot to take in. It was a lot for Tami and I as well. She was six the first time that she dreamed of you. Who you were, who you’re going to be, what it meant for us… that was a lot of information for one so young to take in.”

Hell, it was a lot for an adult to take in! Tony had no idea how a child had managed it. He also still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the whole ‘psychic power’ thing anyway. Even with his earlier reminders of all the strange things he’d seen, Tony had a hard time reconciling his scientific viewpoint with something that science had proven unable to quantify.

“My sister is the one with the gift,” Tavi said suddenly, bringing Tony’s attention back to him. “I have no special power myself beyond the bond that twins share. Through that bond, I’m able to see her visions with her, to See as she does. But the powers aren’t mine, and she can choose to shut me out if she wishes. Where we were raised, twins such as us were uncommon. Rare. But when they were born, one always carried the sight, while the other became the sword. One to see, and one to protect. I was raised in the ways of the warrior so that I could always keep my sister safe. Only once have I failed in that mission – and we paid for it with our lives. Our First Death.”

Despite himself, despite the overload of information he’d received so far, Tony found himself listening eagerly, fascinated by this glimpse into the enigmatic twins.

“Her power has always lain in Dreams. There, she Sees things that help guide us.” Scooping up a stick from the ground, the older Immortal twirled it between his fingers almost absently, kind of like the way that Rhodey used to practice rolling a quarter around his fingers until it became instinct. “We’ve met few others in our time who have the kind of power she does. One, who had visions during the day. Another, who had the power to use her voice to compel. And one who not only has dreams but can gain feelings and impressions from the touching of objects.”

There was a sharpness to Tavi’s eyes as they flashed up to Tony then. Something that held the engineer in place. In contrast, his words were still the same low and gentle sound as before. “That one has the power to become so much more. Tami believes they will be able to learn and train their power until they can control what they see, and when they see it. To touch something and seek out the visions. To be able to have them come at will.”

Tony’s throat felt dry. He swallowed against it and involuntarily tugged his blanket closer around himself.

Abruptly, Tavi looked away, finally breaking the stare that had held Tony spellbound. When he spoke again, what he said wasn’t at all what Tony expected. “Tell me, when you sense the presence of another Immortal, what do you feel?”

“What’re you talking about?”

The stick that Tavi still held flicked upward, balancing on the tip of his index finger. All his attention was seemingly on that, even if Tony knew better. “Describe it to me. What does it feel like to you?”

Though he wasn’t quite sure where Tavi was going with this, Tony tugged on the blanket around him and settled in, trying to think of the words to describe what had become so normal for him. For months it’d been a sensation he’d constantly felt, every day, and that made it strange for him now to be without it. But it also made it commonplace. Something that he could tune out if need be. “It’s like… like a buzzing in my head. This weird tingle that tells me they’re there. Sometimes…”

“Yes?”

Tony licked his lips and forced his eyes up and away from Tavi. “Sometimes it gave me a clue about what kind of mood they might be in before they got to me. It wasn’t much warning, but it was enough to prepare.”

“Hm.” There was a pause, a moment where Tony gathered himself away from his memories and Tavi was quiet, and then the other man said: “It’s not like that for the rest of us.”

“What?” Tony’s eyes snapped down to the other man, his discomfort momentarily forgotten.

Tavi was watching him with a faint smile on his lips. The stick was gone, and his hands were folded down in his lap. “It’s not like that for the rest of us,” he repeated. “All we get is the buzz. A warning that seems to vibrate through us, letting us know another Immortal is near. The older ones, they can sometimes feel a bit stronger. And as your own strength grows you’ll find you’re able to sense the potential for immortality in those that have yet to have their First Death. But… that’s all we sense, Tony. Nothing more.”

How was that possible? Sure, at first Tony had only sensed a little bit about the others, but the more time went on, the more he was able to pick up. “Maybe it’s because I spent so much time with the same group of people.”

Even as Tony said it, Tavi was shaking his head. “Tami and I once spent almost a hundred years with another Immortal. I was never able to sense more than when they were close.”

“What’re you trying to say?” Tony demanded. He sat up a little straighter, and though he didn’t realize it, a scowl was darkening his features. “Are you trying to suggest that I’m… what? Some sort of…”

“Seer,” Tavi said calmly.

The sound Tony made was somewhere between a snort and a groan and was packed full of disgust. “ **Bullshit**.”

Though Tavi clearly didn’t know the word that Tony had just used, he at least seemed to understand the sentiment. “Denial will get you nowhere, my little Star.”

Tony snorted. Yeah, right. Denial got him plenty of places in life. _It also got a whole ton of civilians dead when Obie sold your weapons, and basically got you a giant hole in your chest_ , his conscience reminded him.

One corner of Tavi’s mouth quirked up, almost like he could follow along with Tony’s thoughts and knew the arguments there. “Did you really think you could go through such a thing as you did and not come out changed?” he asked quietly.

Tony’s hands twisted in the blanket. “It made me Immortal.”

He’d barely finished when Tavi was shaking his head. “You were already destined to be Immortal. We are destined for this life from birth, as the Gods choose us. The potential was already there. No, Tony Stark, that was a part of you before this. What you have been through, how you came to be here – you traveled through the very magic of the universe. It touched you. Remade you.” At that, his eyes darted down towards Tony’s chest as if he knew what was supposed to be there – and what wasn’t. When he looked back up, his eyes seemed older. Wiser. “You have a power to you now. One that you cannot deny. If you try, it will show itself in other ways, and those may not always be pleasant. You need to learn to control your power, or else it will control you.”

The urge to shake his head and deny all this was strong. Every time Tony felt like he was starting to _maybe_ come to grips with something there was another new thing added on. These people wanted him to just accept that he’d somehow time traveled into the past as well as, oh yeah, hey _btw you’ve totally gained psychic powers while you’re at it. Surprise!_

It was ludicrous. And yet… and yet Tony sat there and stared at Tavi, and he couldn’t bring himself to voice any of the doubts that were playing through his mind. Not when Tavi was watching him with such open honesty on his face. The words just wouldn’t come. They caught in Tony’s throat and held there, keeping him silent.

Tony remembered the strange dreams he’d had while he was here. The strange sensations he’d gotten sometimes when trying to grab for something, or what he’d felt when he’d tried to pick up Kronos’s sword. He remembered that feeling of a warm hand running over his spine and cupping the back of his neck, nudging him into looking just moments before he’d felt the tingle of Immortal Presence.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Tony shut out the man in front of him, and he slowly drew his legs up until he could press his forehead into his knees. It was the most he’d allowed himself to appear as truly weak in front of anyone other than JARVIS in a long, long time. He needed it, though. He needed that moment to just take a few deep breaths and bring himself back under some semblance of calm.

When he was finally able to look up again, he was surprised to find that Tavi hadn’t moved. The man was still sitting on the ground, still watching Tony with warmth and understanding clear on his face. Bless him, he didn’t comment on that little panicky moment Tony had just indulged in. Instead, he acted as if there hadn’t been any sort of pause at all and just started talking as if they’d never stopped. “Tami and I want you to come with us, Star. Tami can train your powers, and I can train your body. We’ll help you to be able to defend yourself against any Immortal you come across. We’ll help you to fight, and to _live_ so that one day you can be where you are needed, to help ensure the whole of the world lives.”

“That’s a **hell** of a burden to put on someone’s shoulders,” Tony said, just a bit hoarse.

Tavi dipped his head. “Yes, it is.” There was a hint of an apology in that. Yet, he didn’t take his words back, nor did he look away.

Holding that gaze, seeing the determination in there, Tony felt a soft sigh slip past his lips. This was utterly ridiculous. He was no hero! He wasn’t some prophesized person meant to go save the world! He was just Tony Stark – genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Sure, he was Iron Man, but Tony even more than anyone else could admit that he’d become Iron Man for a lot of selfish reasons, just like he’d _stayed_ Iron Man for even more selfish reasons. He _wasn’t_ a hero. Steve Rogers had been right on that, asshole though he may have been. No one looked at Tony Stark and saw a hero.

But… if this were all true, if what Tavi and Tami had told him held even a _hint_ of truth to it, could Tony seriously walk away? There were some facts here that Tony couldn’t deny.

Fact – he was in the past. Little as he liked it, and as terrifying as it was, it made a terrifying amount of sense.

Fact – aliens had attacked New York, and there’d been something bigger out there in space, something waiting to come.

Fact – there was no way Loki had planned that whole invasion on his own. By Thor’s own account, the guy was smart, and the whole of the invasion had been stupidly done. There were too many things wrong. Halfway through, Tony had known at least seven different ways he could’ve run his own invasion – and _won_ – and Loki hadn’t even come close to any of those. Sure, there was always the chance the guy wasn’t as smart as Tony. But something told Tony that wasn’t true.

Fact – There was someone bigger and badder – this supposed Thanos guy – who wanted to try and take over the world. Hard as it was, Tony couldn’t deny this one. It fit in with everything else. So for now, he was going to accept it as fact.

Put all those together, and there was really no choice for Tony here, was there? No other options were available. He – and these twins, it would seem – were the only ones to know what was coming in the future. That meant that they were in the unique position of being able to plan for it and to _stop_ it.        The rest of this nonsense about it being Tony’s destiny or about him having psychic powers or what-the-fuck-ever, those weren’t important. Tony didn’t have to focus on those. All he had to focus on was what he knew, and what he could do with that knowledge.

Anchoring himself in facts helped Tony to sit up just that little bit straighter. It helped him strengthen his spine and lift his chin, eyes steady as they stared down at Tavi. “You seriously think you can help me learn how to survive?” Tony raised one eyebrow at him. “Keep in mind, I’ve never lifted a sword against another being in my life.”

“I can teach you to wield a sword as if it were an extension of your own body,” Tavi said firmly, a grin stretching over his face.

“I won’t be an easy student.”

Tavi’s grin grew wider. “I could be a terrible teacher.”

This was insane. It was ridiculous.

It felt _right_.

A slow, answering smile was ghosting over Tony’s lips, slowly gaining life. “Something tells me we’re going to hate each other.”

“Oh, yes,” Tavi agreed easily. Then, to Tony’s surprise and delight, the man winked at him. “But we’ll have much fun doing so, won’t we, little Star?”

There was no way Tony could do anything but grin back at him. He shook his head, casting the other man an amused look. “It’s _Stark_ , **gorgeous**. Not Star.”

“You flew through time and space, have traveled amongst the stars, and your Quickening tastes of the power of the stars.” Still smiling, Tavi pushed up to his feet. Then he held a hand out to Tony, looking down at him with the kind of fondness that Tony was used to seeing from Rhodey, not other people. “Come on _, little Star_. Tomorrow starts a new day, and your body needs rest.”

For a moment Tony just stared up at him. He knew this was more than just Tavi helping him up and sending him to bed. This moment was much bigger than that. Everything they’d talked about tonight, everything Tony had learned, all of it was coming together in this moment. It was one of those ‘live or die’ moments, as Rhodey called them. Or, as he’d said before, _“Time to decide if you’re gonna shit or get off the pot, Tone.”_ Such a way with words that Rhodey had. Yet, it was true. It was time for Tony to make a decision.

His hand was steady when he reached out and laid it in Tavi’s.

* * *

_At that moment, I might not have accepted the truth of everything that the twins had told me, but I knew the truth of at least some of it. I knew that there was a threat in the future, and I knew that I had to try and find a way to stop it. Not because I was destined to do so, or because someone had had a vision of me doing it, or whatever was going on. No – I had to stop it because I was the one with the knowledge of it, and the knowledge of the future itself, and who else was going to be able to do it? Even if others tried, they wouldn’t be able to do as good a job as me._

_Maybe that’s just ego talking. Maybe not. The point was, I had the knowledge of the threat, the future, the technology of the time, and so much more. Who better to try and make some sort of plan? It’d take time to do it all right, and that was one thing I apparently had in abundance._

_Going with Tami and Tavi was one of the smartest things I’ve done in my life. In accepting Tavi’s touch that night, I accepted the two of them into my life, and that’s been a decision I have never had cause to regret._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Book 1. Book 2 is going to be Tony's time with the twins. As it stands right now, to put this bluntly, there is no rape in that book - though, there will be a tag of 'rape recovery' as Tony deals with the emotions and aftermath of his time with the Horsemen. His feelings for each various Horseman, for how he lived and what he went through, WILL come up. Tami and Tavi are going to help Tony heal as best as they can. So, that'll be a topic in there, guys. Just to warn you.
> 
> Thank you for your kudos and comments in this - they've really helped me to keep going! I'm sorry it's been slow, my work hours are still insane. Hopefully once things mellow down by next month, it'll be easier to write more.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm not a fan of the Highlander movies, but the TV show? I love that show. I LOVE IT. I watch it on Hulu a lot while writing this. Here's a few bits from their wikia to help explain things.
> 
> Immortals are beings that can supposedly live forever, never aging, never completely dying, unless someone takes their heads. Immortal physiology is different from normal human physiology because of the Quickening, which might be a very powerful electromagnetic field. Immortals suffer and die from wounds exactly the same way as ordinary humans do, however, they restore to a healthy state after dying. The only way to permanently kill them is decapitation.
> 
> With each head an Immortal takes, there's a Quickening - When an Immortal is beheaded, there is a powerful energy released from their body which is called a Quickening. Actor, Adrian Paul, explains, "The Quickening is the receiving of all the power and knowledge another immortal has obtained throughout his/her life. It is like the receiving of a sacrament... or a massive orgasm." The producers describe it so: "The power of the Quickening is the equivalent to a major electrical storm hitting -- windows explode, lights short circuit, it is almost as if the victorious Immortal is in the center of a lightning storm."
> 
> Immortals kill one another like this as a part of 'The Game'. "There can be only one" is the belief and motto among the immortals in the original Highlander film, its sequels and spin-offs. It implies that all immortals must fight and kill one another until only one remains standing; this "one" shall receive The Prize.
> 
> I know that's a lot of info, but you'll get more about it when *Tony* learns about it :)


End file.
